Daniel leaned closer. “Amara, I hired you to help my children, but I also need honesty. Whatever you’re hiding involves them and me.”
She sighed and finally said, “Come to the nursery after midnight. I’ll show you.”
Hours later, Daniel waited in the hallway. At exactly midnight, Amara motioned for him to enter the darkened room. The twins stirred a little, but didn’t cry. She knelt between their cribs, humming the same strange lullaby.
“Look,” she whispered.
She began to sing softly, with words in a language Daniel didn’t recognize. The twins, still half asleep, reached out their tiny hands toward her, as if they understood every note.
Then something amazing happened: they smiled. Not the spontaneous, thoughtful smiles of babies, but deep and focused.
“They know this song,” Amara said softly. “Your late wife sang it to them when they were still in the womb.”
Daniel froze. “What? How do you know?”
Amara’s voice trembled. “Because she taught me.”
Daniel’s heart pounded. “Did you know my wife?”
“Yes,” Amara admitted. “Years ago. I was a maternity nurse at the hospital where she gave birth. She trusted me… she even asked me to take care of them if anything ever happened to her.”
Daniel’s head was spinning. “It’s impossible.” After her d.eath, no one mentioned you. And you, why did you wait six months to introduce yourself? Why didn’t you come forward sooner?
Amara lowered her gaze. “Because someone didn’t want me to get close. Someone powerful. I received threats after your wife’s funeral, warning me to stay away. They didn’t want the twins to be raised the way your wife intended.”
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