My best friend, Sarah, and I had always been close. We shared everything – our hopes, our fears, and our silly secrets. But there was one thing Sarah never told me, and I never asked. She had a baby at 16, a little boy named Thomas, and no one knew who the father was. Sarah kept that to herself. Over the years, I had grown close to Thomas, like an aunt, always there for him, watching him grow up, being a steady presence in his life. But there was always a part of Sarah’s story that she kept hidden, and I respected that. It was her secret, and I didn’t need to know.

But as the years went by, I couldn’t help but notice little things that seemed… familiar. It wasn’t anything obvious at first. Just tiny details here and there that would pop up from time to time, making me question things. Thomas had the same laugh as Sarah, the same mischievous glint in his eyes when he was up to something. But it wasn’t until one afternoon, while I was babysitting Thomas, that I noticed something that completely stopped me in my tracks.

We were playing in the living room when Thomas bent down to grab his toy truck, and his little shirt lifted just enough for me to see a birthmark on his back, just above his waist. I froze for a moment. It wasn’t just any birthmark. It was identical to one that ran in my family. It was the same shape, the same size, the same spot. I had the same mark, as did my brother, and my mother before me. I had seen it a hundred times in the mirror, but now, looking at Thomas, it was as if I was staring at a reflection of myself from years ago.