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Last week, Grandma finally went into labor with twins. Somehow, despite months of bitterness and judgment, the entire family ended up crowded inside the hospital waiting room together. Nobody spoke much while we waited. My uncle kept staring at his phone without reading anything, and my mother looked like she might cry at any second. Then a nurse finally appeared smiling. “Both babies are healthy,” she announced. “Two boys.” The tension inside the room instantly shifted. When we entered Grandma’s hospital room, she looked exhausted and fragile, but peaceful in a way I had never seen before. The nurse carefully placed both newborn boys into her arms — and Grandma suddenly froze. Slowly, she looked up at my mother and whispered, “I know whose they are.”
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