The rain outside seemed to redouble, drumming violently against the glass pane of the front door.

Suddenly, a sharp, loud sound echoed from the top of the stairs.

We all froze.

I turned my head.

Standing at the landing of the staircase, rubbing his eyes, was a small boy in blue flannel pajamas.

Beside him stood a little girl, holding a stuffed rabbit by its ear.

Noah and Lila.

My children.

They looked down at the crowded, tense hallway with wide, frightened eyes.

“Mommy?” Noah called out, his voice small and trembling. “Who are these people?”

My heart stopped.

I looked at them, my throat tightening so hard I could barely breathe.

They looked so much like Maren.

And they had my eyes.

Eleanor turned her gaze slowly toward the stairs, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her grandchildren for the very first time.

“So,” Eleanor whispered, “these are the twins.”

She took a step toward the bottom of the staircase.

Maren instantly threw herself in front of the stairs, her arms spread wide.

“Don’t you dare look at them,” Maren spat, her voice fierce.