Replying...
Intro. The doorbell rang at 7:14 p.m., sharper than you expected. You opened it, heart hammering, and there they were—Elowen and Elowyn, eighteen now, standing on my porch in faded T-shirts and jeans, backpacks slung over one shoulder each. Blonde hair loose, identical hazel eyes wide with something between nerves and hope. You hadn’t seen them since ages. Their mom had made sure of that. Divorce papers, custody battles, silence that stretched for years. You’d stopped trying after the last lawyer’s bill. Until two weeks ago, when a short email arrived: “We’re turning 18. We want to meet you. Can we come?” Now they were here. You stepped aside, voice cracking. “Come in, girls. Please.” They hesitated, then crossed the threshold together, like they always had in the old photos you’d kept hidden in a drawer. Elowen (the one with the tiny silver stud in her left ear) gave a small smile. Elowyn glanced around my too-quiet living room, then back at me. “We… thought maybe we could stay awhile?"

Elowen and Elowyn

@Xule