“Oh my God . . .” Macy says as soon as she opens the door. She clasps her hand over her mouth. Her blue eyes water.

“Who is it, dear?” Matt’s footsteps draw near. He cracks the door open wider and stares. His jaw drops. “What on earth . . .?”

Saying nothing, Macy throws her arms around Logan as tears stream down her face. She’s much shorter than him, so he has to stoop to let the hug happen.

Logan turns to look at me, his face so awkward it would be funny if the situation weren’t so serious.

“What’s going on, Harper?” Matt addresses me for the first time since Mark died. He still looks the same as he used to. Slick, gray hair. Smart, button-down shirt with a wool vest over it. He asks, “Who is this guy? Is he some kind of an impersonator? Is this some kind of a joke?”

I shake my head.

Mark’s parents have been hostile to me since the accident, but I’d never pull such a cruel prank on them.

I just want answers, and these two people are the only ones who can give them to me.

“I was just as surprised as you are when I first met Logan,” I say.

“That’s me,” Logan says awkwardly, waving at Matt from underneath Macy’s smothering hug.

Logan has been living in the city for a couple of months. Now that he has moved into my apartment and found a job, our lives are pretty much stable—as stable as they can be, considering we have a baby on the way.

So now that we finally have some time to spare, I’ve decided to learn the truth about the relationship between Mark and Logan.

That’s why we’re here on a Sunday morning. On the front porch of Mark’s parents—adoptive parents, if our guess is correct.

“Logan.” Matt eyes Logan suspiciously. “And who are you, Logan?”

“That’s what we came here to find out,” I say.

As Macy pulls away from Logan, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, she keeps her gaze on him. “I can’t believe it. You look just like him. Only . . . older.” More tears escape through the corners of Macy’s eyes.

“So you didn’t know Logan existed?” I ask.

Macy shakes her head but says nothing, mesmerized by the sight of Logan.

“Come inside,” Matt says, pulling Macy into the house with him and holding the door open for us.

He leads everyone into the living room and tells us to take our seats on their floral couches, while Macy follows wordlessly and keeps her eyes on Logan.

I scan the house. It doesn’t look much different from the way it used to back when Mark and I were together. I let my gaze linger on the framed photographs resting on the shelves, especially the ones with Mark in them.

I start the conversation as Mark’s parents struggle for words to say. “I understand how you feel. When I first met Logan, I reacted about the same way.”

“And I just thought she was a weirdo.” Logan laughs softly as his attempt to lighten the mood with a joke falls flat. He glances at me, obviously uncomfortable with the way Mark’s parents are staring at him.

“Obviously, I have some questions. And I was hoping you’d be able to help me with them,” I say.

Matt pulls his gaze away from Logan long enough to look me in the eyes. “Yes. Mark was adopted,” he says.

“But we didn’t know he had a twin brother,” Macy adds quickly as more tears roll down her plump, rosy cheeks. “If we had known . . .”

“If we had known, we would’ve adopted a different baby,” Matt says before his wife can finish her sentence. “We told the orphanage we could only take in one child.”

I nod.

I’ve done some research on how orphanages handle the adoption process for twins. Now, most institutions would insist on keeping them together—the same policy applies for siblings, too. But it wasn’t always like this.

“I . . . I had a miscarriage, you see,” Macy says.

“She was inconsolable,” her husband adds, putting his arm around her shoulders and rubbing her arm.

“I felt like the family was incomplete. And so . . .” Macy turns to look at Matt.

“So, we adopted Mark. Not knowing he had a brother.” Matt asks, “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight,” Logan says.

Macy and Matt exchange a look. I know what they’re thinking. Logan is the same age as Mark would be if he were alive.

“Oh, they shouldn’t have separated you. We should’ve adopted you both.” To Logan, Macy asks, “Where did you grow up? Here, in the city? What’s your family like?”

Logan hesitates, glancing at me before finally answering, “I grew up in the foster system. But yes, I was here, in the city, all along.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Macy lifts a hand to her heart. “We should’ve . . . Oh, Matt, we should call the orphanage and ask them about this.”

“I’ve already called them,” Logan says. As Mark’s parents stare at him again, he adds, “They didn’t want to release any information. I guess they don’t want to be blamed for something that happened almost three decades ago.”

“That’s why we’re here. The orphanage. It’s called Childhaven,” I say.

Matt and Macy nod, recognition in their eyes. It’s the same institution. Both Mark and Logan were there when they were babies.

Macy excuses herself to the kitchen and emerges not long after with glasses of lemonade on a tray.

Slowly, the mood changes as the conversation turns to lighter topics.

Logan tells Macy and Matt about his life, explaining that he’s working at a local hospital. I tell them about my job. They tell me about their children who have gotten married and had kids of their own.

Mark’s parents seem taken aback when I tell them about my relationship with Logan. They’re even more surprised when I tell them about my pregnancy, although they smile and congratulate us.

As we’re about to take our leave at the door, Macy clasps my hands. “I’m so sorry, Harper. It wasn’t right, how we treated you after Mark’s death. It’s taken a lot of time for us to realize it wasn’t your fault.

“Many times, I wanted to reach out to you. Apologize. But I thought you probably hated us and didn’t want to hear from us after what had happened. Or maybe you had a life of your own and would prefer to leave all that in the past.”

I give Macy a smile as tears roll down my cheeks. She’s crying, too. This has been an emotional meeting for all of us.

“Not at all,” I say. “I really appreciate you saying that, Macy.”

She nods as her husband says, “Please keep in touch. We’d love to see your baby when the time comes.”

As we say our goodbyes, it feels like I can finally move on from an old chapter of my life.

In a way, I’m glad the orphanage wasn’t very cooperative because we wouldn’t have approached Macy and Matt otherwise.

Maybe everything really does happen for a reason, after all.