Josefina shoved Oliver away and quickly retreated a step. "Look, Oliver, it's getting late. You should head on home."
Oliver watched Josefina make a break for it, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk as he continued to close the gap between them.
She ran, he chased; it was a game she couldn’t escape.
Hattie stepped out and called to Josefina.
"Josie, I've got a pot of chicken soup simmering in the kitchen. Fancy a bowl?"
Without hesitation, Josefina blurted out, "Yes, I'll have some." She had to take the soup, or Oliver might end up devouring her instead.
Hattie, always the polite hostess, extended the invitation to Oliver. "Oliver, would you like to join us for a bowl?"
Oliver, ever the gentleman, declined. "Thank you, Mrs. H, but Josie says it's late and I should be heading home."
Josefina fell silent. Oliver gave off an impression as if Josefina had caused him some sort of injustice.
...
After Oliver left, Hattie and Josefina strolled back to the house.
Under the glow of the streetlights, Josefina looked utterly charming. Hattie’s eyes were filled with remorse as she gazed at her daughter. If only she had found Josefina sooner.
"Josie, I'm sorry for all the hardships you've faced. That tragedy at the hospital separated us for eighteen long years." Hattie wished she could give her daughter the world to make up for the lost time.
"How could they mix up three babies? What the heck happened at the hospital that day? How did we end up with the wrong child?"
"I was on a business trip with your father when the labor pains started, and we found a hospital for the birth. Right after you were born, there was a commotion about a child abduction. Then there were rumors of a gunman. The nurses handed you to your father, and we immediately transferred to another hospital."
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