My mother, Mary, had died in a car accident when I was six. My father, George, had raised me alone.
Whenever I asked about my mother’s past, he became strangely quiet.
And whenever I asked whether she’d had other children, he simply said:
“You were her most precious treasure, Sarah.”
He never actually said I was her only child.
On the seventh morning, Dr. Harris called.
“The results are ready. Please come in together.”
When we arrived, he greeted us with a smile.
“First, both babies are developing well. Their genetic screenings haven’t identified any serious problems. We’ve also ruled out a biological relationship between either of you and the donor.”
Emily immediately burst into tears.
I felt as though an enormous weight had been lifted from my chest.
But the doctor wasn’t finished.
“There’s something else. Something extraordinary.”
He paused.
“The additional testing confirms that you two are biological sisters.”
