It was a scan of an official document with a blue state seal at the top.

My eyes adjusted to the small text, reading the words printed in bold black ink.

It was a certificate of live birth, dated thirty years ago in a hospital in Hartford.

The mother’s name was Eleanor Carter.

But the section labeled “Father” was left entirely blank.

Below it was a second page, a court petition for a closed adoption.

My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the name of the child being adopted.

The door handle in my hand suddenly turned from the outside.

The heavy oak door swung inward, scraping against the stone floor.

I pulled my hand back from the brass handle, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Nathan stood in the opening, his dark wool coat damp from the mist outside.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made me step back.

“Emily,” he said, his voice raw.

I tried to slide the phone into my pocket, but my fingers were trembling too much.