“Are you Margaret?”
“Yes.”
Her gaze dropped immediately.
She stared at the baby in my arms.
Then she whispered, “Was she born three days ago?”
My stomach tightened.
“Who are you?”
The woman swallowed.
“The clinic called me yesterday after your daughter was born.”
I felt my arms tighten around Grace.
“Why would they call you?”
Instead of answering, she slowly reached inside her coat.
I shifted Grace higher against my chest.
The woman noticed.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she said quickly.
She pulled out a folded envelope.
“My name is Ivanna. I’m 42 years old.”
I did not move.
She held the envelope toward me.
“This came from the clinic.”
I stared at it.
“What does it say?”
Ivanna’s mouth trembled.
“I think you should read it yourself.”
I almost shut the door.
Every instinct told me to protect Grace first and ask questions later.
Then I saw Ivanna’s hands.
They were shaking.
Whatever was happening, she was terrified too.
“Come inside,” I said.
Ivanna stepped into the living room carefully.
Her eyes went to Grace again.
I noticed it.
“Please don’t stare at her like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
She looked away.
I sat on the couch with Grace tucked against me.
Ivanna remained standing.
“Sit.”
She lowered herself into the chair across from me.
I opened the envelope.
The first page was filled with formal language.
I read the first paragraph twice.
Then I reached the sentence that made everything around me feel distant.
The clinic had identified a possible error involving stored reproductive material.
My hands went cold.
“What error?”
Ivanna wiped her eyes.
“Keep reading.”
I did.
Years earlier, Ivanna had also stored eggs at the same clinic.
Her samples had been kept in the same facility as mine.
During an internal review triggered after Grace’s birth, technicians found that identifying numbers on two storage records did not match archived laboratory logs.
Mine was one of them.
Ivanna’s was the other.
I looked up.
“No.”
She said nothing.
“No,” I repeated. “They used my egg.”
“That’s what everyone thought.”
“I was told it was mine.”
“So was I.”
Grace made a soft sound.
I looked down immediately.
Her face was peaceful.
My heart began pounding.
“What exactly are you saying?”
Ivanna took a breath.
“The clinic thinks the egg used to create Grace may have been mine.”
For several seconds, I could not understand the words.
They were simple words.
I knew what each one meant.
Together, they made no sense.
“May have been?”
“They don’t know yet.”
“Then why are you here?”
Her face tightened.
“Because they called me yesterday.”
I gripped the papers.
“And you came to my house?”
“I shouldn’t have.”
“You’re right.”
“I know.”
Her eyes filled again.
“But after they told me a baby had been born, I couldn’t think straight.”
