I saved my younger brothers from the fire myself. All I remember is standing outside with Caleb and Liam clinging to me as the flames raged — and how that night changed everything. After losing our parents, looking after the twins became my life’s purpose. My fiancé, Mark, stood by us — he even went to grief counseling, promised we’d adopt them as soon as the court allowed, and the boys adored him (they called him “Mork”).
But Mark’s mother, Joyce, treated the boys like a burden — ignoring them at family dinners, insulting us, and even giving them “suitcases” filled with clothes while telling them they’d be sent away. When I came home from a short trip and found the boys sobbing, I knew enough was enough. Mark and I confronted her — and by the end of a tense dinner, we made it clear: the boys are our sons, and she’s no longer welcome in their lives.
Now, as we file adoption papers, we’re slowly rebuilding a home from grief and trauma — one built on love, safety, and a promise that Caleb and Liam will belong with us forever.