A woman stood in the doorway. She looked pale, and her eyes moved around the room as though she wasn’t sure she belonged there.
She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.
She walked toward a pew at the back, and that’s when I noticed the three teenagers behind her—two boys and a girl. They looked exactly like Mark.
The boys had his jawline. The girl had his eyes. All three had Mark’s nose and the same auburn hair.
Liam, Noah, and Chloe… it had to be them.
But I wasn’t the only one who noticed the resemblance.
“Those kids look just like Mark,” someone whispered. “Did he have an affair?”
“Poor Carol. Thirty-seven years, and she never knew.”
“Did Carol invite Mark’s mistress to his funeral?”
My face burned.
I watched the woman and her children take their seats and tried to remain calm.
They stayed through the entire service, and I felt their presence behind me like a physical weight the whole time the pastor spoke. I couldn’t recall a single word he said.
When the service ended, I tried to reach them.
But by the time I pushed through the crowd of mourners offering condolences and squeezing my hands, they were already gone.
