But I could tell he still believed this would all seem less serious after I’d gotten some sleep.

Then my phone vibrated again.

Beth had sent another message.

Rachel, there’s one more thing. I didn’t think Linda would actually send this out.

Attached was a birth announcement.

I recognized the photograph immediately.

I’d taken it in the hospital on Monday morning, two days after the girls were born. A nurse had helped me settle them safely beside each other for a quick picture.

June was on the left, her eyes open.

Ivy was on the right, yawning.

Their tiny hands were touching beneath the blankets.

It was my favorite photograph from the hospital.

I’d sent it to Eric with a message:

Our girls. I can’t believe they’re really here. Let’s keep this one just for us for now.

Now someone had cropped the photograph.

Only June remained.

Beneath her picture, in pink lettering, were the words:

Introducing our beautiful granddaughter, June! Grandma’s precious little look-alike.

There was no mention of Ivy.

Not even her name.

I looked up at my husband.

“Eric, did your mother show you this?”

He glanced at the screen.

His face changed.

“Rachel—”

“Did you see this before she sent it?”

He swallowed.

“Mom showed me a draft.”

I stared at him.

“You saw a birth announcement with one of our daughters missing?”

“She said she was making something special for June.”

“What about Ivy?”

He didn’t answer.

“Did you ask her what she was making for Ivy?”

“No.”

“Then what did you say?”

Eric looked down.

“I told her it looked nice.”

I sat there holding the phone, looking at the little girl who’d been removed from her own birth announcement.

And for the first time since we’d brought our daughters home, I wasn’t sure I could trust my husband to stand up for them.

PART 2 — THE PICTURE GRANDMA COULDN’T EXPLAIN

ONE DAUGHTER WAS ENOUGH FOR HER

“CALL YOUR MOTHER,” I told Eric.

He stood in our kitchen, looking as though he wanted to be anywhere else.

“Rachel, maybe we should wait until we’ve both calmed down.”

“Your mother sent out a birth announcement that leaves out one of our daughters. I want to know why.”

He picked up his phone.

Linda answered cheerfully.

“Hi, sweetheart! How are my girls?”

I almost laughed.

My girls.

As though she’d remembered there were two.

“Mom,” Eric said, “Rachel saw the announcement you sent out.”

There was a pause.

“Oh.”

I leaned toward the phone.

“Linda, why isn’t Ivy in it?”

“Oh, honey, I just wanted a nice picture.”

“The original picture had both babies.”

“Yes, but Ivy was making that funny face.”

“She was yawning.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly flattering.”

I stared at Eric.

He was looking at the floor.

“She’s a newborn, Linda. She doesn’t need a flattering photograph.”

“I wasn’t trying to upset anybody.”

“Then why didn’t you include her?”

“June was looking so sweet, and the picture fit the announcement. I was going to make something different for Ivy.”

“What were you going to make?”

Linda hesitated.

“I hadn’t decided yet.”

“Did you tell everyone who received it that June has a twin sister?”

“Most of them already know.”

“Most?”

Her tone hardened.

“Rachel, you’re making an enormous fuss over a picture. I was trying to do something nice.”

I looked again at the photograph on my phone.

In the original, my daughters were lying together, their little hands touching.

In Linda’s version, one of them had disappeared.

“You took Ivy out of her own birth announcement,” I said.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You make it sound like I did something terrible.”

“You deliberately cropped her out.”

“Because June looked better in that picture!”

The kitchen went quiet.

Linda seemed to hear herself.

“Rachel, you’ve been through a lot physically. You’re exhausted, and I really think you should get some rest before turning this into something bigger.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“Being tired doesn’t mean I can’t tell which daughter is missing.”

Eric finally spoke.

“Mom, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Linda gave a short laugh.

“Eric, don’t tell me you’re starting this too.”

He looked at me.

Then he said something I hadn’t expected.

“No, Mom. Rachel’s right. You shouldn’t have cropped Ivy out, and I should’ve said so when you showed me the picture.”

Linda sounded offended.

“I’ve done nothing but love those babies since they arrived. Now you’re both acting like I’m some kind of awful grandmother.”

“Nobody said that,” Eric replied. “But you need to stop comparing them.”

“Well, I’m sorry nobody can take a joke anymore.”

I ended the call before she could say anything else.

Eric didn’t object.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then I looked at him.

“If Beth hadn’t sent me those screenshots, would you ever have told me?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

That answer hurt more than another excuse would have.

THE THING HE’D BEEN AFRAID TO SAY

The girls woke a few minutes apart, and our argument had to wait.

Eric changed June while I fed Ivy. Then he brought me a glass of water, put a fresh burp cloth over my shoulder, and sat in the chair across from me.

For a while, we worked together without speaking.

It was such an ordinary part of our new life that I nearly cried.

I’d imagined those first weeks would be difficult because of sleepless nights and feeding schedules. I hadn’t expected to feel alone in protecting our daughters from their own family.

After both babies were settled, Eric pulled his chair closer.

“Rachel, I need to tell you something.”

I waited.

“Mom’s always been like this.”

“Like what?”

He rubbed his palms together.

“She picks somebody. There’s always somebody who’s the smart one, the pretty one, the athletic one. When Paige and I were kids, she used to tell everyone Paige was the beautiful one and I was the dependable one.”

I frowned.

“You never told me that.”

“I didn’t think much about it. Paige got attention for how she looked, and I got praised for doing what I was told. That’s just how things were.”

He looked toward the bassinets.

“I guess I thought if we ignored the comments about June and Ivy, Mom would get bored and move on.”

“Did she ever move on when you were kids?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

“Not really.”

There it was.

The first explanation he’d given me that sounded like something he genuinely believed rather than something he’d said to avoid an argument.

I thought about how often Linda praised Eric for being responsible while criticizing Paige for being dramatic. I’d assumed those were ordinary family observations.

Now I wondered how many years of comparisons were hidden beneath them.

“Eric, your mother may think this is normal,” I said. “But our girls don’t have to grow up with it.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“I need more than that.”

He looked at me.

“What do you need?”

“I need you to stop worrying about whether your mother gets upset and start worrying about what happens if we let this continue.”

He sat quietly for a moment.

Then he reached for his phone.

“I’m going to call Paige.”

I watched him leave the room.

I couldn’t hear every word, but I heard enough.

“No, Paige. It wasn’t harmless. You asked strangers to compare my daughters. Delete the pictures you saved, and don’t post anything else without asking both of us.”

There was a pause.

“I’m not discussing whether Rachel is too sensitive. I’m telling you what I expect.”

When he returned, he looked uncomfortable.

“She hung up on me.”

“I’m sorry.”

He gave a tired smile.

“I guess she’ll survive.”

It wasn’t a grand gesture.

But it was the first time I’d seen him choose an uncomfortable conversation with his family over an uncomfortable silence with me.

THE ANNOUNCEMENT THAT HAD TO BE CORRECTED

The next morning, I called Beth.

I asked whether she knew how many people had received Linda’s announcement.

“I don’t have the whole list,” she said. “But Aunt Carol forwarded it to me, and I know several relatives got it.”

“Would you be willing to tell me who you know received it?”