“During a business trip, I accidentally came across a woman. She turned around to look at me—and I froze: her face was identical to mine, down to every detail./th

During a business trip far from home, I chose to sit at a small café on the corner of the street while waiting for a colleague. The morning was chilly, and the steaming cup of coffee in front of me brought a comforting warmth. Suddenly, I noticed a slender figure walking into the café. She wore a beige coat, her hair tied neatly back, carrying herself with a calm grace that felt strangely familiar.

When she turned around, my eyes froze. My heartbeat quickened.
That face… it was mine. Not just a resemblance, but identical down to every detail: the deep-set eyes, the tiny mole by the corner of the lips, even the faint scar above the left brow.

I instinctively stood up. She stopped too, her eyes widening as if she were staring into a mirror. The entire café seemed to hold its breath.

“Who… are you?” I asked, my voice trembling.

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she gave a faint, peculiar smile—half warm, half enigmatic. Then she stepped closer, leaned in, and whispered just for me:

“We shouldn’t meet… at least, not yet.”

I stood stunned, unable to react, as she quickly turned and walked away, leaving behind only a faint trail of perfume. I rushed out the door, but amidst the busy crowd, her figure vanished as though she had never existed.

The whole day, I couldn’t focus on work. Her image haunted me. Why did she look so perfectly like me? Was it just coincidence, or was there a hidden truth about my past I had never known?

That night, I lay awake, tossing and turning. In my mind, her cryptic words echoed again and again:
“We shouldn’t meet… not yet.”

So when will be the right time?
And who… exactly… is she?

That night, I couldn’t sleep. The words of that woman echoed in my mind like a needle piercing deep into my thoughts, leaving me restless. I searched for the old memory box my mother had left me—the one that held photographs from her youth.

Among the yellowed pictures, one photograph froze me in place. In it was my mother, standing beside a man I didn’t recognize. And between them were… two newborn babies.

The babies looked exactly alike. One of them was me.

My hands trembled as I clutched the photo. All my life, my mother had insisted I was an only child. But this picture… it was undeniable proof of a truth buried for decades.

The next day, I confronted her. The moment she saw the photo in my hand, her face turned pale. She sat in silence for a long time, her hands gripping the edge of the chair, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“You’ve met her, haven’t you?”

Her question sent shivers down my spine. She knew. She knew everything.

I stammered,
“Who is she? Why does she look exactly like me?”

My mother raised her head. Her eyes were red, her voice unsteady.
“She… is your twin sister. Years ago, because of a tragedy, I was forced to separate the two of you. I kept one child. Your father took the other. I never thought you would meet—at least, not this soon.”

My throat tightened.
“A tragedy? Why didn’t you ever tell me? Father? You mean… he’s still alive? You told me he died when I was a baby!”

My mother lowered her gaze, as if hiding a terrible fear.
“Because your father… and the secret of his family… you’re not ready to know. Once you do, your life will never be the same again.”

I sat frozen. Her words only deepened the abyss of mystery. But I couldn’t hold it in anymore.
“Mother, I need to know the truth. Tell me everything.”

At that very moment, the silence was broken by the sudden ringing of my phone. I glanced at the screen—an unknown number. When I answered, a deep male voice came through:

“Hello, my daughter. It has been over 20 years… It’s time we finally meet again.”

My blood ran cold.
“What? Mother—what is happening?!”

Pressed by my tears and questions, my mother finally spoke, her words slow, heavy, like stones dropping into a bottomless well.

“Your father came from a wealthy family. I was just a village girl. We fell in love, but his family would never approve. Out of desperation, we decided to have children, hoping they would accept us. But we were wrong. His mother… she was cruel. She threatened your grandfather’s life—my father’s life—as leverage.

In the end, I had no choice. To save him, I gave up one of my twin daughters to your grandmother. I left with you, my father, and a sum of money she provided, disappearing to a place no one would ever find us…”

My mother continued, “A week ago, your father came here with his wife. They told me that your grandmother had passed away. He said he wanted to bring you back, to make up for all the years you and I struggled in a foreign land. I refused. But now that you know everything, I want you to decide for yourself.”

Now, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a father since I was a child, and a father’s love is something I’ve always longed for. But my mother—she gave birth to me, raised me with all the love she had, despite the hardships and struggles.

If my father didn’t have me, he would still have his family, his wife, and my twin sister. But if my mother didn’t have me, she would have nothing…