I nodded.
“He said something strange. He told us we had the same eyes.”
I smiled faintly.
“Yes. He said we both had your mother’s eyes, even though he’d barely known your biological family.”
Emily looked down at her tea.
“My adoptive mother used to say the same thing. She always told me that my smile reminded her of someone she had never met.”
We sat quietly.
Then Emily asked:
“Sarah, did your mother ever have another child?”
I felt my stomach tighten.
“I don’t know.”
“Did your father ever mention it?”
“No. Whenever I asked whether I had brothers or sisters, he always said I was his greatest treasure.”
Emily looked at me.
“But that isn’t the same as saying you were his only child.”
Her words stayed with me long after she left.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I opened an old box containing photographs and documents from my childhood.
