Part 1
My name is Marianne Tate, and I hadn’t stood face-to-face with Stuart in thirteen years.
Then I spotted him at the registration counter.
Simone was standing beside him, looking perfectly calm, while their son wore a blazer from an expensive private school.
Stuart noticed me.
“Marianne?”
For a moment, he seemed genuinely stunned.
Then his expression turned cold.
“What are you doing here?”
Simone moved closer, wearing a faint smile.
“This is a private event.”
“It’s a state competition,” I replied. “That’s literally what it’s called.”
Stuart leaned toward me and lowered his voice.
“How dare you come here today?”
Several people standing nearby heard his words.
What he failed to notice were the two seventeen-year-old boys just a few feet behind me.
Or perhaps he did see them but simply had no idea who they were.
The last photograph Stuart had ever seen of our twins was taken during their christening.
“I’m here for my children,” I told him.
He laughed.
“Your children?”
His gaze swept over the boys, but there was no sign of recognition.
“This weekend is important to our son.”
“It’s important to mine as well.”
I chose not to continue arguing.
Thirteen years of birthdays, medical appointments, science fairs, school performances, homework sessions that stretched late into the night, and simple family dinners separated us.
“Come on, boys,” I said. “Registration closes in ten minutes.”
As we walked away, one of my sons leaned toward me and whispered, “Mom, that was him, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Our dad?”
“Yes.”
Neither of them spoke again.
I assumed they were still trying to process what had happened.
I was mistaken.
At four o’clock, the awards ceremony got underway.
When the announcer reached the applied mathematics category, my eldest son’s name rang out across the auditorium.
Gold medal.
I had barely caught my breath when they announced the winner of the physical sciences category.
My other son had won gold as well.
Then came another announcement.
He had achieved the highest raw score of any student in the entire state.
Two brothers.
Two gold medals.
The same surname.
I turned toward Stuart.
He was sitting several rows behind me.
I watched the realization slowly dawn on him.
First, he heard the name Tate announced twice.
Then he watched both boys stand up together.
Finally, my second son walked onto the stage and smiled in my direction.
His face was identical to Stuart’s.
The same eyes.
The same jawline.
The same expression.
A man sitting nearby leaned toward his wife.
“Who are those boys?”
She glanced down at the program.
“The Tate twins. Their mother raised them by herself.”
