**Diary Entry 15th June**
I never imagined my teenage daughter would walk through the door pushing a pram with newborn twins inside. I was certain that would remain the most shocking moment of my life. But ten years later, a solicitors call about a multi-million-pound inheritance proved me utterly wrong.
Looking back, perhaps I should have sensed something extraordinary was coming. My daughter, Emily, had always been different from other girls her age. While her friends obsessed over boy bands and makeup tutorials, she spent evenings whispering prayers into her pillow.
Please, God, send me a little brother or sister, Id hear her plead night after night. I promise Ill be the best big sister ever. Ill help with everything. Just one baby to love.
It broke my heart every time.
My husband, James, and I had tried for years to give her a sibling. After multiple miscarriages, the doctors gently told us it wasnt meant to be. We explained as best we could, but Emily never lost hope.
We werent wealthy. James worked maintenance at the local secondary schoolfixing pipes, patching up wallswhile I taught art classes at the community centre. We managed, but extras were rare. Still, our little house was always full of laughter, and Emily never complained.
That autumn, at fourteen, she was all long legs and unruly curlsstill young enough to believe in miracles, yet old enough to understand heartbreak. I thought her prayers for a baby would fade with time.
Until the afternoon that changed everything.
I was in the kitchen marking sketches when the front door slammed. Normally, Emily would yell, Mum, Im home! before raiding the fridge. This timesilence.
Emily? I called. Everything alright, love?
Her voice trembled. Mum you need to come out here. Now. Please.
Something in her tone made my pulse race. I hurried into the hallway and threw open the door.
There stood my daughter on the porch, pale as paper, gripping the handle of a worn-out pram. Inside, two tiny newborns nestled under a faded blanket. One fussed, tiny fists waving. The other slept peacefully, chest rising and falling.
Em My voice nearly failed me. What is this?
Mum, please! I found them abandoned on the pavement, she sobbed. Theyre twins. No one was there. I couldnt leave them.
My legs turned to jelly.
She pulled a folded note from her pocket. The handwriting was frantic:
*Please take care of them. Their names are Oliver and Lily. I cant do this. Im only eighteen. My parents wont let me keep them. Love them like I cant. They deserve so much more than I can give.*
The paper shook in my hands.
Mum? Emilys voice cracked. What do we do?
Before I could answer, Jamess car pulled up. He stepped out, froze, and nearly dropped his toolbox. Are those actual babies?
Very actual, I whispered. And apparently, theyre ours now.
Temporarily, I thoughtuntil I saw the fierce protectiveness in Emilys eyes.
The next few hours blurred. Police arrived, then a social worker, Mrs. Thompson, who examined the babies.
Theyre healthy, she said gently. About two or three days old. Someone cared for them before this.
James frowned. What happens now?
Emergency foster care tonight, she explained.
Emily burst into tears. No! You cant take them! Ive prayed for them every night. God sent them to me. Please, Mum, dont let them go!
Her desperation undid me.
Well keep them tonight, I blurted. Just until things get sorted.
Something in our facesor Emilys raw pleasoftened Mrs. Thompson. She agreed.
That night, James rushed out for nappies and formula while I borrowed a cot from my sister. Emily refused to leave their side, whispering, This is your home now. Im your big sister. Ill teach you everything.
One night stretched into a week. No one came forward. The notes author remained a mystery.
Mrs. Thompson returned often and finally said, Emergency foster care could become permanent if youre interested.
Six months later, Oliver and Lily were legally ours.
Life became a beautiful chaos. Nappies doubled our bills, James took extra shifts, and I taught weekend classes. But we managed.
Then came the miracle giftsanonymous envelopes with cash, vouchers left in our letterbox, clothes dropped on our doorstep. Always the right size. Always when needed.
We joked about a guardian angel, but deep down, I wondered.
Years flew by. Oliver and Lily grew into bright, inseparable children. Emily, now at university, remained their fiercest championdriving hours for every football match and school play.
Until last month, during Sunday dinner, the landline rang. James rolled his eyes, answeredthen went pale. Solicitor, he muttered.
The man introduced himself as Mr. Bennett.
My client, Sophia, has instructed me regarding Oliver and Lily. Theres a substantial inheritance involved.
I scoffed. This sounds like a scam. We dont know any Sophia.
Shes very real, he assured. Shes left Oliver, Lily, and your family an estate valued at £4 million. Sophia is their birth mother.
The phone nearly slipped from my hand.
Two days later, we sat in Mr. Bennetts office, staring at a letter in the same desperate handwriting as that note a decade ago.
*My dearest Oliver and Lily,*
*I am your birth mother, and not a day has passed without me thinking of you. My parents were strict, deeply religious. My father was a prominent vicar. When I fell pregnant at eighteen, they were ashamed. They locked me away, refused to let me keep you, and ensured our congregation never knew you existed.*
*I had no choice but to leave you where I prayed good people would find you. I watched from afar as you grew up in a home full of the love I couldnt give. I sent gifts when I couldsmall things to help your family care for you.*
*Now Im dying, with no other family. My parents are gone, taking their shame with them. Everything I ownmy inheritance, properties, investmentsis yours.*
As I looked around the room, I saw how love had woven our fates together, writing a story more beautiful than any of us could have dreamed.
