The Sister I Never Knew
I always knew I was adopted. My parents never hid that fact from me, but they always told me the same story: the adoption was closed, the records were sealed, and I was the only child my biological mother gave up. For 25 years, I believed them. But curiosity is a powerful thing. Last month, on my birthday, I decided to post a photo of myself in a popular Facebook group for finding biological relatives, just to see if anyone recognized my features.
Three days passed with nothing but generic well-wishes. Then, a notification popped up that made my heart stop. A girl named Emily had commented four simple words: "That is my face." I clicked on her profile picture. It wasn't just a resemblance. It was like looking into a mirror. The same nose, the same uneven smile, the same birthmark on the chin.
"I wasn't looking at a stranger. I was looking at myself in a life I didn't live."
We met up at a coffee shop halfway between our cities. The moment she walked through the door, the entire room seemed to freeze. We were wearing the exact same expression of disbelief. We compared notes, birth certificates, and hospital records. The truth was undeniable: we are identical twins separated at birth.
But the joy of finding her was quickly replaced by a cold realization. Our adoptive parents knew. They hadn't just adopted us; they had participated in a cruel decision to split us up because they "only wanted one." They had hid the truth from us for a quarter of a century, denying us the sisterhood we were born with. Now, we are united, but the trust in the people who raised us is shattered forever.
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