Two years later, as I folded laundry one evening, Ben came in and asked, “Grandma, is Tina my real mom?”
I froze. “Why do you ask that, honey?”
I took a deep breath. “And if I said yes?”
His grin widened. “Then I’d be really happy.”
The next morning, I told Tina everything — that he knew, that he wanted her in his life fully. We both cried. Then, together, we told Ben.
He didn’t act surprised. He simply nodded and said, “I knew it.”
That afternoon, we went back to the café — our café. When Tina came out with two mugs of cocoa, Ben jumped from his chair, ran to her, and threw his arms around her waist.
“Hi, Mom,” he whispered.
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