When David moved to Los Angeles with his seven-year-old daughter, he thought the hardest part was learning to live without his late wife. But the moment he walked her into her new classroom, everything he believed about his past began to unravel.
I never thought I’d be here. Not in Los Angeles, not starting over with my daughter, Sophie, after losing the love of my life, Irene.
It’s been a year since she died, leaving me to raise Sophie alone.
I thought I understood everything about my life, about her, and about the past. But I was wrong.
When Irene died, something inside me broke. I packed up our home in Dallas and moved west, hoping the California sun might somehow patch the cracks.
More importantly, I believed Sophie deserved a new start in a place where people didn’t look at her with pity.
On the morning of her first day at the new school, I could tell she was nervous. Her small hands fidgeted with the strap of her backpack.
“Okay, here we are. Your new school, Sophie.
Are you excited?” I asked, forcing a smile as I parked in the drop-off line.
She twirled the hem of her blue skirt the way she always did when anxious. “I think so… but what if no one likes me?”
“They will,” I said softly, brushing a stray curl from her face. “You’re smart, kind, and beautiful… just like your mom.” I leaned down and kissed the tiny heart-shaped birthmark on her forehead.
“Just be nice, no fights.”
She nodded, took a deep breath, and walked toward the building. I stayed by the gate, watching through the classroom window like a nervous sentry.
Inside, the kids were laughing and talking as they introduced themselves. Sophie paused by the door, clutching her lunchbox.
The teacher greeted her kindly, but the class went quiet.
Then a boy’s voice broke through the murmur. He shouted, “It’s Sandra’s clone!”
Clone?
Sophie blinked, confused, scanning the room. My eyes followed hers, and that’s when I saw her.
At the back of the class sat a little girl who looked exactly like Sophie.
Same blonde hair, same blue eyes, and the same small, shy smile. She even had the same small heart-shaped birthmark, right on her forehead.
My heart skipped a beat.
The girl stood staring at Sophie with wonder. “Wow!
We look like twins!” she said.
“I… I don’t have any sisters,” Sophie said softly.
The other girl grinned. “Me neither! Just me and Mom.” She skipped over and grabbed Sophie’s hand.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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