We Want to Eat, the twins beg the woman, and she sees that they have the birthmark of her late son

Estella Townsend had lived most of her later years in silence. Her house was spotless, her curtains always drawn, her laughter long gone. On the coffee table sat a single silver ring — the one her son, Neil, had given her on her last birthday before he died. Every night, she’d trace the engraved initials E.T. and whisper to the empty room, “Why did you take my boy, God? Why not me?”

Neil had been everything to her — brilliant, kind, endlessly curious. A young scientist with the same spark his late father once had. He’d spent his life chasing knowledge and light, while Estella had spent hers chasing his happiness. She used to tease him that atoms and molecules were his real friends, not people. He would just smile and hug her, promising one day to make her proud.

And he did — right up until the morning that phone call shattered her world.

It had been an ordinary day, the kind where she hummed to herself while cooking breakfast. Then her phone rang.

“Am I speaking to Mrs. Townsend?” a man’s voice asked.

“Yes, who’s this?” she said, drying her hands.

“This is from your son’s research team, ma’am. There’s been… an accident. We’re very sorry. Your son—”

She never let him finish. “That’s not funny,” she snapped. “I just spoke to Neil. He’s in his hotel, preparing for a conference.”

But it wasn’t a joke. The voice broke. “Mrs. Townsend, your son passed away this morning. We’re arranging his service for Wednesday.”

The phone slipped from her hand. Her knees gave out. Her world collapsed into silence.

The next time she saw her son, he was lying cold and pale in a coffin. Estella’s scream echoed through the church as she clutched his lifeless hand. “Why him?” she cried. “He was the good one. Take me instead!”

Days blurred into weeks, then months. People tried to comfort her, but every condolence only deepened her rage. “He’s not gone!” she’d shout. “He’s coming back! You’ll see!”

But eventually, reality set in. The denial burned out, leaving only ashes of sorrow. She stopped answering calls, stopped going out. Her only companions were Neil’s old notebooks and that silver ring.

For ten long years, she lived like a ghost among the living. Until one winter evening, the doorbell rang.

Startled, she wrapped herself in a sweater and opened the door. Standing outside was a young woman — nervous, eyes wide, clutching her purse.

“Yes?” Estella asked stiffly.

“Is this… Neil Townsend’s home?” the woman asked softly.

Estella’s chest tightened. “It was. Who are you?”

“My name’s Emily,” the woman said. “I—I need to see him.”

Estella’s tone hardened. “You can’t. My son is dead. Whatever business you had with him is over.”

Emily’s eyes went wide. “No. That can’t be. He can’t be—”

“Go,” Estella snapped, slamming the door. “Leave me alone.”

Emily stood on the porch for a moment, trembling, before turning away. Estella watched her silhouette disappear through the curtains, then collapsed to her knees. “Why now?” she whispered. “Why remind me?”

She thought she’d never see that girl again. But fate wasn’t done with Estella Townsend.

Ten years later, Estella was in the town market, wrapped in a thick coat, humming under her breath — the first song she’d dared to hum in years. That’s when something small collided with her leg.

“Ow! Watch where you’re—” she started, then stopped.

A thin, scruffy boy stared up at her with huge brown eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We’re hungry. Do you have any money for food?”

Estella sighed, irritation creeping in. “Where are your parents?”

The boy hesitated, then another child appeared beside him — identical. Same clothes, same wild hair.

“I’m Jordan,” the second boy said. “This is my twin brother, Tim. We just want to eat.”

“Twins,” Estella muttered. “Of course.”

She tried to walk past, but they clung to her sleeve. “Please, ma’am! Just a little!”

Something in their voices — desperate but polite — made her pause. She grumbled, reached into her purse, and handed them some cash. “Here. Now go.”

“Thank you!” one of them exclaimed and threw his arms around her waist.

Estella froze. It had been so long since anyone hugged her. She looked down — and that’s when she saw it.

A small, crescent-shaped mark on the boy’s neck.

Her breath caught. “That mark… how do you have that?”

He blinked at her. “Oh, this? Mom says it’s special. My brother has it too!”

Her knees nearly gave out. Neil had the same mark — right there, on his neck. The same shape, the same color.

“Boys,” she whispered, voice trembling, “would you like some hot chocolate and buns?”

Their faces lit up. “Yes, please!”

She took them to a nearby café, her heart pounding. As they devoured pastries and laughed, she couldn’t stop staring. The curve of their noses, the tilt of their smiles — echoes of her son stared back at her.

“Where’s your mother?” Estella finally asked.

“We live with her,” one said. “She’s outside. She doesn’t like asking people for help.”

A voice called from across the street. “Tim! Jordan!”

Estella turned — and nearly dropped her cup.

A woman was hurrying toward them, her coat frayed, her hair pulled back. Her face, though lined and weary, was unmistakably familiar.

Emily.

The same girl from her doorstep a decade ago.

When Emily recognized Estella, her smile vanished. “Boys,” she said softly, “come here. We shouldn’t bother this lady.”

“Wait,” Estella said, standing. “Don’t go. Please — sit with me.”

Emily hesitated, then lowered herself into the chair, clutching her sons.

“Do you remember me?” Estella asked.

“Yes,” Emily whispered. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back then. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Estella studied her face — tired but kind. “You knew my son.”

Tears welled in Emily’s eyes. “I loved your son,” she said simply. “Neil and I met at a science conference in college. He was the brightest person I’d ever known. We were together six months before he stopped calling. I thought he’d left me… I didn’t know he’d died.”

Estella’s throat tightened. “You were the girl at my door,” she murmured. “You were carrying his children.”

Emily nodded, crying now. “When I found out I was pregnant, I wanted to tell him. Then I learned about the accident. I was alone. My parents disowned me, so I raised the twins myself. We never had much, but I told them their father was a good man — smart, kind, and brave.”

Estella reached across the table and took her hands. “You should’ve come to me,” she said, her voice breaking. “You were family. You and those boys. My God… they’re all I have left of him.”

Emily sobbed. “I didn’t want to burden you.”

Estella stood and pulled her into an embrace. “Burden me? You saved me. For ten years, I asked God why He left me behind. Now I know. It was for this moment.”

She removed the silver ring from her finger — the one Neil had given her. “He would’ve given this to you,” she said, placing it in Emily’s palm. “If life had been kinder, you’d have been his wife. So wear it. It’s yours by right.”

Emily cried silently as Estella smiled through her tears. “You and these boys are coming home with me. You’ll have food, warmth, a roof — and love. I finally have a reason to live again.”

The twins wrapped their small arms around her legs. “Grandma,” one whispered, “can we have hot chocolate every day?”

Estella laughed — a real laugh, the first in a decade. “Every single day, my darlings.”

That night, as she tucked the twins into bed, Estella looked up at the stars and whispered, “Thank you, Neil. You gave me back my heart.”