Flora had sorted her thoughts completely by the time she saw Micah again after a week. Seven days were long enough for her emotions to cool down. She had repeated the same conclusion over and over to herself until it became a vow: she would not interfere. Not with the matter of the switch at birth. Not with the relationship between Micah and Darcy. Not with anything at all. Better to fade into the background like a wallflower, silent, unnoticed, and simply be a bystander.
She, with her chronic sickness, had no right to meddle. Darcy had already been crushed under her burden. And she, foolish and selfish, had wanted to reconnect with her biological son. That desire was the epitome of ingratitude.
Her lips curved bitterly at the thought. Perhaps it wasn't such a terrible fate that her two sons ended up being together. They could find strength in each other. Who was she to protest?
