Even as I think of my grandfather, I sit there, stunned, as the revelation of Gran’s past with Herman Frost sinks in. The air in the room feels thick, heavy with the weight of this new knowledge. I try to process the information, to reconcile the image of my sweet, reserved grandmother with the young woman in the photograph, caught between two men and two very different futures.

“So, before you were Helen Gallo, you were slated to become Helen Frost?” I ask. “Sounds like you became Helen of Troy.”

She huffs a laugh, but it doesn’t reach her pained eyes. She blinks slowly at the photo, considering my words.

“I suppose you could say that.” She sounds so…sad.

And I’m not sure if it’s because she misses grandpa…or something else.

A sudden thought strikes me, and I feel my heart stutter in my chest. I look up at Gran, my eyes wide behind my glasses. “Is he… is Herman related to the Dr. Frost who attended Grandpa’s memorial anniversary?”

Gran hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering away from mine. I can sense her reluctance, the way her body tenses slightly at the mention of his name. “Yes,” she admits finally, her voice soft but steady. “Dexter is Herman’s grandson.”

I reel back in my seat, feeling like I’ve been punched in the gut. My mind spins with the implications of this information, with the realization that the man who has turned my world upside down, my body inside out, is inextricably linked to my own family history.

Oh god…oh god, I’m going to be sick.

My skin crawls, my palms turning clammy with this unbelievable, gutting revelation.

His grandfather and my grandmother. Together.

Oh god, did they fuck?

Of course, they fucked.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit, shit!

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