Her phone was disconnected. My texts stopped delivering. Every letter I mailed came back unopened.
Margaret assured me Claire had specifically asked our family not to search for her.
I was angry. Humiliated. And far too proud. Eventually, I stopped looking.
Now she was sitting only a few yards away from me. Then one of the boys stirred.
He slowly sat up. And my mouth went dry. Dark, wavy hair. My hair. The same square jaw my father had.
And above his left eye was a tiny notch in his eyebrow. The exact same notch I saw every morning when I looked in the mirror to shave.
My laptop nearly slipped from my hand. At that moment, Claire opened her eyes.
She saw me. Every trace of color disappeared from her face. Without thinking, she immediately pulled both boys closer to her.
I took one careful step forward. “Claire.” She stared at me as though someone from another life had suddenly appeared in front of her.
“It can’t be…” “I’ve been saying the same thing to myself for six years,” I managed.
Claire pressed her lips together. She glanced at the two boys. Then back at me.
Her expression held grief, fear, and something else I couldn’t understand.
“Adrian…” she whispered. Her voice trembled. Then she asked the question that made everything I believed about the last six years begin to collapse.
“Your mother never told you, did she?” I know everyone is very curious about the next part, so if you want to read more, please leave a “YES” comment below!
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