My name is Nathan and for the past 20 years I’ve called the streets my home. I’m 36 now, but my body feels like it’s pushing 60. Maybe it’s the cold. Maybe it’s the hunger. Or maybe it’s the ache that comes from being forgotten by the world. I wasn’t always like this. I was born just like any other child into a family, into a name, into a place I once called home.

But something happened, something I can’t even remember. All I know is I woke up on the cold steps of a train station when I was just 16. And from that day forward, I became invisible. No one sees you when you’re dirty. No one listens to you when your clothes smell. No one cares when you’re coughing blood behind a dumpster. But that night, everything changed.

It was raining, the kind of rain that cuts like needles. My tattered blanket was soaked. My stomach had been empty for 2 days. The soup kitchen had closed early. I was about to lay my head near the trash bin behind Rosewood Hospital when I saw him. A man underscore dressed like he owned the world, was stumbling in the dark.

His expensive suit was soaked and blood dripped from his forehead. He held his chest and gasped for air, struggling to speak. I could have ignored him. People ignore me every day. But something in me, something I didn’t understand, moved me to crawl toward him. Hey, hey, are you okay? I shouted over the rain.

He collapsed. I rushed to him. His wallet slipped from his hand. Inside, I saw his name, Mr. Elijah Green. And beside that, a photo of a little girl, his daughter. His pulse was fading. I had no phone, no money, nothing. But I had legs and I had desperation. So I dragged him inch by inch through the mud, through the rain, all the way to the front doors of Rosewood Hospital.

The guards didn’t believe me at first. They called me mad and tried to chase me off. But when they saw Elijah’s bleeding body, they panicked and called the doctors. I watched from outside the glass doors as they wheeled him in, yelling for blood oxygen surgery. Nobody thanked me. Nobody asked for my name. I sat there for hours, shivering, bleeding, waiting to know if he’d make it.

When the doctor finally came out, he looked straight past me. He’s lucky, he told the nurse. Another 5 minutes and he would have died. Whoever brought him in saved his life. I felt a tear fall down my cheek. Not because he lived, but because for the first time in 20 years, I felt like I existed. I stood to walk away. I didn’t want anything.

I just wanted to disappear again like always. But then, Nathan, I froze. No one had called my name in years. I turned around. The voice wasn’t from the doctor or the nurse or any staff member. It came from a woman standing near the corridor holding Elijah’s wallet. Her eyes were wide, confused. Shocked. “Do I do I know you?” she asked, walking slowly toward me.

I shook my head, but then she said it again. This time, her voice trembling. Nathan. Nathan. Graham? I blinked. Graham. That was my surname. The one I barely remembered. Who are you? I asked, my throat dry. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, a nurse rushed out, whispering in her ear. She gasped, looked back at me with fear, and then turned and ran inside the hospital.

I stood there, staring after her. What just happened? How did she know my name? Why did she call me? Graham. And how did she look so much like like my face? I glanced at the hospital window and caught my reflection. And then I saw it. The man I saved, Elijah Green, looked just like me. Same jaw, same nose, same eyes. My heart dropped.

What kind of cruel joke was this? Was I seeing things? Was my mind breaking? Was this man somehow connected to me? As I turned to leave, my heart pounding with questions, two men in black suits walked past me into the hospital. One of them said to the other, “We have to keep this quiet. If he finds out the truth, everything will collapse. I froze in the rain.

I didn’t sleep that night. How could I? The man I saved, the billionaire in that hospital bed, looked exactly like me, but richer, cleaner, healthier. His life seemed like a mirror I was never allowed to see until now. I kept hearing her voice. Nathan Graham. That name my real name. No one had called me that since I was a child.

I hadn’t remembered my surname until she said it. So, who was she and how did she know me? By morning, I was still outside the hospital. My body numb, my mind spinning. Then, suddenly, a car pulled up. A dark black SUV with tinted glass. Two men stepped out. The same men in black suits from last night. They didn’t look like doctors.

They looked like men who made problems disappear. One of them looked around like he was searching for something. Or someone. I ducked behind a taxi and watched. He pulled out a phone and dialed. “Sir, we have a problem,” he said coldly. The homeless man who brought Mr. Elijah in. He saw something. A pause. “Yes, I’m sure.

” He was standing right outside when his sister-in-law screamed his name. “Sister-in-law?” I almost dropped to the ground. That woman, she was married to Elijah. But how could she know me? How could she? Good. We’ll handle it, the man continued. But if he ever comes near this hospital again, bury him and make it look like a street fight. He hung up.

I gasped hand over my mouth. They were planning to kill me. For what? For saving someone’s life or because they were hiding something they didn’t want me to find. I didn’t wait. I ran. Later that day, I hid under a bridge by River Avenue, shivering, scared, and starving. I had only one person I could trust. Mr.

Cole, an old blind man who sold roasted groundnuts near the train station. He didn’t have much, but he always shared what little he had. “Why do you look like a ghost that saw another ghost?” he asked, handing me a wrapper and a bottle of warm water. I told him everything from the billionaire in the rain to the woman who called my name and the men who wanted to bury me.

He sat quietly rubbing his old fingers together. Then he said something that shook me. 20 years ago, a wealthy couple came to this city. The wife was pregnant with twin boys. But one night, the house was set on fire. They said only one child was found. I stared at him. One of the staff told me, he continued, “The second baby was never seen again.

Some believed he was kidnapped and dumped. Some believed he died, but the rich couple kept it secret to protect their business.” “I couldn’t speak.” “Could I be that child?” “Was Elijah my twin brother?” “Look at your face, Nathan,” Mr. Cole whispered. “You think it’s a mistake that man looks just like you?” Flashback. A memory returns. I was six.

I saw fire, screams, my hand held tightly by someone in a dark coat, running, smoke choking me. Then everything went black. My heart pounded. I fell to my knees. The memory hit me like a stone. Was I stolen? Was I abandoned? All these years of pain, all these nights of begging for bread while my brother wore Italian suits and flew in private jets.

God, why me? Tears burn my eyes, but even worse, why would someone want me dead now? Back at Rosewood Hospital, inside the VIP room, Elijah slowly opened his eyes. His wife sat beside him, holding his hand. “You’re okay?” she whispered, forcing a smile. “You passed out.” They said, “Your heart stopped for a second.” He nodded weakly. Then he looked around.

“Where is he?” “Who?” The man who saved me,” Elijah said. “The face I saw in the rain, he looked like me. Exactly like me. His wife’s hand froze.” She looked away. Elijah, she whispered, “There’s something you should know about your past.” But before she could speak, the door flew open.

The man in the black suit entered. He gave her a sharp glance. “Ma’am, a word now.” She stood, eyes wet with tears, and followed him outside. The man grabbed her arm roughly. “I told you, keep your mouth shut. If he finds out he has a twin, the inheritance war will destroy the company. I don’t care about the company,” she snapped.

“He deserves to know the truth. That Nathan is alive.” He slapped her. She gasped. “Say that name again,” he growled. “And you’ll be next.” She clutched her cheek, heart racing. The man walked away, leaving her trembling. Same night, back under the bridge. I was curled in a corner when I felt something drop on my chest. A letter. I looked around. No one.

I opened it. Inside was a single line. You don’t know the truth, but the truth knows you. Leave now or they will bury you before sunrise. I stared at the words shaking. Who sent it? Why warn me? And what truth were they trying so hard to bury? Suddenly, headlights shined toward the bridge.

A car slowly pulled up. I ducked behind the concrete wall. The door opened. Two shadows stepped out. One of them whispered. That’s where he sleeps. Make it fast. Gunshots echoed in the dark. I covered my ears, crawling in panic. They were here to silence me. But why is my life worth killing for? And why does my face look like the man on the hospital bed? I ran through the mud, through the glass bottles, over the broken wood.

The bridge echoed with gunshots. They were looking for me, hunting me, all because I saved a man’s life, a man who might be my brother. One of the bullets scraped my arm, but I didn’t stop. Pain wasn’t new to me, but the fear of death, this was different. Who were these men? Why did my face threaten them? Why did they want me gone so badly? I found shelter inside an abandoned shack near the rail lines.

I sat with my back pressed against the wall, holding my bleeding arm and breathing like a hunted dog. And then it happened again. Another memory. This time I was younger, maybe three. A warm bedroom, two cribs, two babies, a woman smiling and singing a lullabi, her soft hands stroking my forehead. Then the door burst open. Screams. Fire.

Running footsteps. My blanket torn off. A sharp pain to the back of my head. Darkness. My eyes widened. The twins were real. I wasn’t imagining things. I wasn’t going mad. There really were two of us. Two boys born on the same day. Two babies in that burning house. And I was the one stolen.

Meanwhile, back at the hospital, Elijah sat upright in bed, staring at his reflection in the glass. He hadn’t spoken in hours. His wife, Clarissa, sat in the corner, fidgeting. “Elijah,” she finally said, voice shaking. “Do you remember anything about your childhood?” He looked at her with tired eyes. “Why do you ask?” She hesitated.

Then slowly she walked to him and touched his hand. There’s something you were never told. Something your family covered up. What? She leaned closer. You weren’t born alone. He blinked. What? You had a brother? She whispered. A twin. He froze. Clarissa continued. There was a fire. They found only one baby. And they told the world the other didn’t make it.

But some of us, we believe differently. Elijah stood up from the bed. He walked to the mirror and stared at himself. “That man in the rain, the one who saved me.” Clarissa nodded. “He’s not just anyone.” She placed a photo on the table. It was a faded image. Two babies in white. One of them had a tiny mark behind his ear.

“Your mother said it was a birthark shaped like a star.” Elijah reached behind his ear. Nothing. He looked at her. “Find him,” he said. “I need to see him again.” Clarissa took a step back. Tears welled in her eyes. “I tried, but they’re trying to kill him.” Somewhere in the city, a woman entered a dark house.

She was old, gay-haired, her eyes sunken with secrets. Her name was Mrs. Evelyn. She had once been the housemaid in the billionaire’s mansion. But when the fire happened 20 years ago, she disappeared into silence. Tonight, someone had slipped a photo under her door. A photo of a man in rags. Nathan, she clutched her chest.

It can’t be, she whispered. He’s alive. Then her phone rang. A voice on the other end warned. If you speak about the past, your son dies tomorrow. Keep your mouth shut, old woman. But Evelyn wasn’t afraid. Not anymore. The past is back, she muttered. And this time it’s wearing the face of the forgotten. Back to Nathan. I wandered into a small pharmacy holding my bleeding arm.

I didn’t have money, but the woman at the counter looked at me with pity. She cleaned the wound and gave me a painkiller. What’s your name? She asked. I almost lied, but something in me was tired of hiding. Nathan Graham. Her eyes widened. I’ve heard that name, she whispered. from a woman, a maid. She said she once served a wealthy family, the Grahams.

There was a boy with a birth mark behind his ear. He was stolen. My throat dried. I slowly turned around. She handed me a mirror. Check behind your left ear. I did. And there it was, a faded star-shaped mark. My legs gave way. I slumped to the ground. Tears dropped from my eyes. All these years I had begged. I had suffered.

I had starved while my twin lived like royalty. But he didn’t know. He had no idea. He wasn’t the enemy. The real enemies were those who kept us apart. Those who buried the truth and built empires on lies. Flash to the men in black. Sir, bad news. One of the men said over the phone. He knows now. The twin is alive and Elijah is asking questions.

The voice on the other end was calm. but dangerous. I told you,” the voice replied. “If Elijah finds out about the inheritance clause, we lose everything.” “Yes, sir.” “Then bury both of them.” I stood on a bridge, staring down at the cars passing below. Suddenly, a black car pulled up behind me. Doors opened. Two men stepped out. One held a gun.

I turned slowly, heart pounding. But before the man could speak, a voice echoed from the other side. Touch him and I’ll expose everything. I turned. It was Clarissa Elijah’s wife standing with her phone up. Recording. I know the truth, she said coldly. And the world is about to know, too. The men froze. My eyes locked with hers.

And I whispered, “Tell me, who am I?” The wind blew softly across the bridge as Clarissa held up her phone. recording everything. The men in black froze, unsure of what to do next. But she didn’t blink. She stood firm, her voice calm yet dangerous. I’ve already sent the video to three different journalists, she said. Touch him and tomorrow morning the whole world will know you tried to bury the truth.

The taller man clenched his jaw, furious. But Clarissa turned to me, Nathan, and gave me a soft, reassuring look. Come with me,” she said gently. “You’re not safe here.” I hesitated. For years, all I knew was fear, hunger, and silence. Trusting people never worked out well for me. But this time, it felt different.

I followed her, and for the first time, no one chased me. Back at the mansion, Elijah stood in the garden, tall, proud, and quiet. His hands trembled slightly as I stepped through the front gate. Our eyes met. He dropped the glass in his hand. I stood there uncertain, dirty, ashamed of how I looked. My clothes were torn. My shoes had holes.

But none of that mattered when he slowly walked up to me and stopped just inches away. We stared at each other. It was like looking in a mirror, but one that told two different stories. He reached out and gently pulled back the collar of my shirt, then touched the faint birthark behind my ear. Tears filled his eyes. Then mine. “You’re my brother,” he whispered.

“And then he hugged me. Not a quick hug. Not a pitiful pat, but the kind of hug that heals years of brokenness. I collapsed in his arms and cried like a child.” So did he. It wasn’t just a reunion. It was a resurrection. Later that night, we sat by the fireplace as Clarissa, Elijah, and I listened to Mrs.

Evelyn, the old maid, confess everything. “I was there the night the fire happened,” she said. “But the fire wasn’t an accident. Someone said it to kill you both and take your father’s company.” I gasped. Elijah’s eyes widened. Mrs. Evelyn continued, “But only one baby was found.” Your parents were told that the other had died, but I knew.

I saw a man take Nathan and vanish into the night. I tried to speak, but I was threatened, and I’ve lived in shame ever since. I looked at her. “I forgive you,” I said, meaning every word. Because carrying hate is like carrying chains. And I was ready to be free. Weeks later, the men who tried to silence the truth were arrested.

The board of directors cleaned out the corruption and Elijah made the boldest decision of all. He stepped down and in front of reporters, business tycoons, and cameras, he placed a hand on my shoulder and said, “The man who once begged for food on the streets is my brother, and he will now help lead the company our parents built.” The crowd gasped. Some people clapped.

Some cried. But none of it mattered more than what Elijah whispered in my ear. Let’s build something together. Something that saves people like the one you used to be. One year later, I stood in front of a brand new building. Graham Home of Hope, a shelter and rehabilitation center for the homeless, named in honor of our parents and for every soul forgotten by the world. Elijah stood beside me.

Clarissa held our baby niece who now called me Uncle Nate. And Mr. Cole, the old blind man who once gave me ground nuts, stood proudly at the ribbon cutting. I told you, he said, smiling. You were born for more than the gutter. I laughed with tears in my eyes. I finally believe that. As we cut the ribbon and opened the doors to welcome those without homes, I looked at the sky and whispered, “Thank you for giving me pain because it gave me purpose.

” That night, I went back to the same street corner where I once begged. I saw a boy, skinny, cold, shaking under cardboard. I took off my coat and knelt beside him. “Hey,” I said softly. What’s your name? He looked up, afraid. Don’t be scared, I smiled. I used to sleep right here, too. He blinked. But now, I continued.

I own the biggest home for people like you, and I want you to come with me. He hesitated, then nodded. I took his hand and together we walked away from the dark into the