Then he took his phone out of his pocket.
On the screen was a photograph of a young woman.
She looked so much like me that I instinctively stepped closer.
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The same eyes.
The same nose.
The same smile.
Only her hair was darker.
“This is Sophia,” my father whispered.
I was already crying.
“Does she know about me?”
“Yes. She’s been searching for you, too.”
“Where is she now?”
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My father glanced at his watch.
Then he said something that made me jump to my feet.
“Downstairs. In our living room.”
“WHAT?!”
“She arrived today. I asked her to wait a few minutes while I explained everything to you.”
I didn’t wait another second.
I ran out of the bedroom and hurried down the stairs.
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My mother was standing near the living room doorway.
And in front of her stood a young woman.