If Hannah looked exactly like me and I had a twin sister somewhere…
“His mother was my sister,” I whispered into the dusty air of the attic.
Hannah wasn’t looking for me. She was looking for my twin, her biological mother.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers and scrolled up to Hannah’s profile. I stared at her face, seeing my sister now instead of myself. This beautiful young woman was my niece. My own blood.
The only family I had left in the world.
Announcements
I typed a message, deleted it, then typed it again: “I might know something about your family. Can we talk?”
I pressed “send” before I could question myself.
The answer came in less than a minute: “Please, yes. When? Where? I’ve been looking for so long.”
I looked around my dusty attic, at the scattered pieces of a secret buried for decades, and typed back: “Tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything.”
We agreed to meet in a small cafe in the city center. I barely slept that night, rehearsing what I would say, how I would explain something I barely understood myself.
When I walked into the cafe, Hannah was already there, sitting at a corner table near the window.
As soon as our eyes met, we both froze.
