When the doors to the house opened, Anderson was the first to step in and his eyes darkened instantly.
He looked over his shoulder just in time to see Rebecca step in with the kids.
"Hey." She called.
"Grandma!"
The twins broke free from Rebecca's hold in a flash, their little voices ringing out in unison as they sprinted toward the figure seated on one of the sofas. Their excitement filled the room in just a second.
"Grandma?" Rebecca repeated under her breath, her brows furrowing in confusion.
She tried to catch a glimpse of what they were so eager about, but Anderson:s broad frame blocked her view.
Straining her neck, she leaned around him, her heart skipping a beat when her eyes landed on the woman sitting on the sofa.
A woman she hadn't seen in years. A woman who... looked too much like her mother.
"Mom...?" Rebecca whispered softly to herself, her voice barely audible, as her lips parted slightly while her pulse quickened.
"You... came back?"
Her soft words floated across the room as she stepped out from Anderson's shield.
She looked at the woman who bore a strong resemblance to her.
The fiery red hair her mother had now had traces of silver.
She blinked softly. In her memories, her mother left her when she was fourteen, and she never returned.
Her mother was bright, but the woman seated across her looked... old and weary.
While Rebecca reminisced about the past, Grace Parker stared at her daughter with a guarded expression.
She tightly held her grandkids as she stared straight at Rebecca whose confusion swirled in her eyes.
"Mom." She called again.
Grace's body shook and she spoke calmly. "You finally remember that you have a mother."
Rebecca blinked twice, clearly taken aback.
"Of course I do," she said slowly. "Why are you saying it like that?"
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Anderson stepped in between both women, and said. "Aunt Grace, may I have a word with you...?" He glanced at Rebecca who had her head tilted, and added. "... in private."
Grace's gaze flickered between her daughter and son-in-law, and she sighed. She placed the kids comfortably on the sofa, and said:
"Lead the way."
Anderson took a deep breath before he walked in the direction of his study.
Grace passed by Rebecca without glancing at her, leaving the latter with creased brows. She was confused—confused as to why her mom had a look of indifference instead of care.
Something was wrong and she had a feeling that her 'old' self must have done something to hurt her mom.
Inhaling, she plastered a smile on her face and walked to the kids.
Meanwhile, Anderson and Grace made their way into the study. Anderson walked in after her.
"Aunt Grace, please have a seat." He pointed at the seat, and she nodded before taking her seat.
"Care for a cup of coffee?" He asked, already preparing the pot.
"There is no need." Grace stopped him at once. "Just tell me why you asked to see me."
Anderson exhaled, his brows automatically knitting together. "I know you're confused about her actions just a few minutes ago." He started, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table. "It's been years since she called you 'Mom.'"
Grace's fingers dug into her palms. Anderson's words touched a sore spot, and it was somewhere she hated to dwell on.
"She's... changed. Or rather... she has lost her memories of the past years."
Grace's eyes flashed.
Anderson spent the next ten minutes telling her about what had happened.
When he was done, Grace sat frozen in her chair. Silence reigned in the study, save for the ticking of the clock.
After what seemed like an eternity, Grace finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Dissociative Fugue?"
Anderson nodded heavily.
"But how's that possible?" She asked, rubbing her aging forehead.
"No…" Grace shook her head slowly. "That's not possible."
Her voice dropped, her eyes reflecting hurt. "She… she fought me on everything. She wouldn't even look at me."
Anderson remained silent as he allowed her to process the new discovery.
Finally—
Grace let out a shaky breath, her fingers pressing against her temple.
"So what are you saying?" she asked quietly. "That the girl downstairs… doesn't remember anything she did?"
Anderson nodded. "Her memories stopped at eighteen."
Grace let out a hollow laugh, but there was no humor in it.
"How convenient." Her words were sharp, but her eyes betrayed her.
"They told me the same thing," Anderson said calmly. "That it's not an act."
"You of all people should know how she is around the kids. But you saw it yourself—they came in holding her hands."
Grace fell silent. Her gaze drifted toward the door as if she could see Rebecca through it.
"She looked at me like…" she hesitated, swallowing hard. "…like she actually missed me."
That alone shook her more than anything else.
Anderson didn't respond. Because he had seen it too.
And for the first time in years,
He understood something.
Rebecca wasn't faking it.
When they finally went into the sitting room, they were stunned—Grace in particular by the sight.
Cheryl was cradled against Rebecca's chest as she was fast asleep while Liam laid quietly on her laps while she stroked his hair.
If Grace wasn't convinced by Anderson's earlier words while in the study, this act of Rebecca was enough to convince her.
Everyone knew that Rebecca hated the children coming close to her, but now...
She held them tightly as if they were her whole world.
Anderson watched them with his hands folded and a soft smile. He turned to Grace, and he could see the way her lips parted, her eyes filled with shock.
"Do you believe me now?"
Grace didn't move toward them. Instead, she crossed her arms, her gaze lingering on the children with a mix of relief and profound suspicion. Even with the evidence right in front of her, the scars of the last few years throbbed.
"I see a change," Grace said, her voice low and raspy, "but I don't know if I believe in miracles yet, Anderson. Amnesia is a clean slate for her, but for the rest of us? The ink is still wet."
She looked at Rebecca—who smiled warmly at her—and felt a chill. Grace wasn't ready to forgive; she was merely waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"We'll see," she whispered, her eyes hardening. "We'll see how long this version of her lasts."