I Lost One of My Twins During Childbirth — but One Day My Son Saw a Boy Who Looked Exactly Like Him
So I poured everything I had into raising him. I loved him more than life itself.
Our Sunday walks became our tradition. Just the two of us wandering through the park near our apartment.
Stefan liked to count ducks by the pond. I liked watching him, his brown curls bouncing in the sunlight.
That Sunday seemed ordinary at first.
Stefan had just turned five a few weeks earlier. He was at that stage when his imagination ran wild.
I poured everything I had into raising him.
He told me about monsters that lived under his bed and astronauts who visited him in dreams.
We were walking past the swings when he stopped so suddenly that I nearly stumbled.
“Mom,” he said quietly.
“What is it, honey?”
He was staring across the playground. “He was in your belly with me.”
The certainty in his voice made my stomach tighten.
“He was in your belly with me.”
“What did you say?”
He pointed.
On the far swing, a little boy sat pumping his legs back and forth. His jacket was stained and too thin for the chilly air. His jeans were torn at the knees. But it wasn’t the clothes or the obvious poverty that made my breath hitch.
It was Stefan’s face. He had brown curls, the same shape of eyebrows, the same line of the nose, and the same habit of biting his lower lip when he concentrated.
It was Stefan’s face.
On his chin was a small, crescent-shaped birthmark.
All of it was identical to Stefan’s.
The ground felt unstable beneath me.
The doctors had been certain that Stefan’s twin had died at birth. It couldn’t possibly be him.
So why did they look so alike?
“It’s him,” Stefan whispered. “The boy from my dreams.”
It couldn’t possibly be him.
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