My fingers started to go numb.

I couldn’t feel the tips of my thumbs or the paper in my hands.

“Dr.

Evans told me my daughter didn’t survive the delivery,” I whispered.

“He handed me a piece of paper that said my child was gone.”

“I was born eleven years ago,” Lily said.

“Rebecca told me she adopted me from a private clinic in Ohio.”

I picked up the photograph with shaking hands and forced them still by gripping the edges of the thick paper.