Dark curls.
Round cheeks.
The kind of effortless confidence children have when they believe the world is safe.
They couldn’t have been older than five.
Five.
The age my twins would’ve been.
I smiled automatically.
The way adults do.
But then I looked closer.
And something inside me… stopped.
They looked like me.
Not just similar.
Not coincidence.
Something deeper. Something that reached past logic and went straight into instinct.
And then—before I could even process the thought—
They ran toward me.
Wrapped their arms around my waist.
Held on like they had been waiting for me their entire lives.
“Mom!” the taller one shrieked joyfully. “Mom, you finally came! We kept asking you to come get us!”
The room fell silent.
Not the quiet of peace.
The quiet of shock.
I looked up.
The lead teacher gave me a strained smile, mouthing “sorry.”
But nothing about this felt like a misunderstanding.
This felt like something tearing open.
I made it through the morning like a ghost moving through someone else’s life.
Snack time.
Circle time.
