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During the final weeks of my twin pregnancy, when another sleepless night kept me awake, I came across a trending local post while scrolling on my phone. The caption read: [I told him I was scared of getting stretch marks, and he promised to give me the babies his wife was carrying. If that isn't love, what is?] The comments were ruthless. Everyone called her a mistress and accused her of trying to steal another woman's children. She fired back with a marriage certificate and several photos of them living together. [A mistress? That woman only has a marriage certificate that isn't legally valid. Mine is the real one. Technically, she's the outsider. [Her due date is in May. Once she gives birth, I'll finally be able to bring my son and daughter home.] I stared at the photos for a long time. The details had been blurred out, but after six years of marriage, I recognized that man instantly. It was my husband, Ian Lawrence. The marriage certificate. Twins. A May due date. Those facts painted a picture too clear to mistake. There was only one couple in all of Dorsen who fit.