while Rachel was sick, I helped clean their apartment. In my dad’s drawer, I found their marriage certificate—dated 1988. But I was born in 1995. That’s when it hit me: Rachel was the wife. My mom was the other woman. Everything I thought I knew crumbled. I confronted my dad, and the truth came out. He had cheated on Rachel with my mom, who was once Rachel’s close friend. When my mom got pregnant, Rachel left—but after I was born, something changed in her. She forgave them,

and she chose to love me. Rachel walked in during our conversation, and I ran into her arms. I finally understood her strength, her kindness. She never owed me anything, yet she gave me love unconditionally. Now, I see my family differently. It’s not traditional—but it’s full of forgiveness and love. I don’t just have a mother and a father—I have two women who chose to raise me, in their own way. And that makes me feel incredibly lucky.