**Part One: The Strawberry Incident**
Eight years ago, they gave me the wrong baby at the hospital. My daughter is out there in someone elses home. Heres what happened
It started smalla tiny, seemingly insignificant detail. Emily never imagined this little thing would crack open a chasm too terrifying to peer into. It started with strawberries.
Sophieher daughter, her sunshine, her breath, her whole nine years of love and caresuddenly broke out in red splotches after a bite of dessert. No big deal, Emily thought. Allergies happen. But when the doctor, barely glancing at Sophies records, said, Oh, some kids react to berries, something twitched in her chest. No one in their family had allergies. Not her, not her husband, not their parents. Never.
Thenthe eyes.
Brown. Deep as night, like chocolate, just like her husbands. Emilys were grey-blue, like a seaside dawn. She stared at her daughter and didnt recognise a single featurenot the curve of her brows, the shape of her chin, or even the way she squinted in bright light, a habit Emily wouldve passed down to the universe if she could.
Genetics are complicated, the doctor said with a condescending smile, flipping through papers. Recombinant genes, hereditary mutations Maybe a grandparent had the same thing?
Emily stayed silent. She wasnt looking for excuses. She wasnt listening with logicshe was listening with her heart. And a mothers heart doesnt lie. It beats in time with her childs, even if that child isnt hers by blood. But now, it was out of rhythm. It was breaking.
That night, when the house was quiether husband asleep, Sophie snug under her bunny-print duvetEmily pulled down a dusty cardboard box from the top shelf. Inside were hospital documentsa tiny hospital bracelet, a pink-stained babygrow, a birth certificate. She read every line like a prayer. Thenher eyes snagged on the nurses signature.
A messy scribble, as if someone had deliberately smudged it. As if they knew one day, someone would come looking for the truth.
And so, Emily started digging.
First, quietly, like feeling her way through the dark. Thendesperate, furious, like a mother realising she might lose everything. She found women whod given birth the same day, at the same hospital. Then she found Charlottea woman from the next town over, with a daughter named Sophie, born on the same date.
They met at a café. Autumn rain tapped the windows like a warning. The girls sat at the next table, giggling over crisps. Then Emily saw itthe other Sophie looked at her. And smiled. Exactly like her Sophie. Exactly like Emily herself had as a child.
Are are you her mother? Emily whispered, feeling a lump rise in her throat, her hands shaking, the world tilting.
Charlotte went pale. Her eyes widened. She stared at Emily like a ghost from the past. And in that moment, both women knew: something had gone terribly, horribly wrong.
The DNA test was the final blow. Cold. Black. Like a tombstone.
**Result: Not the biological mother.**
Emily faced a choice no mother should ever make. Court battles. Scandal. Broken families. Children torn apart. Orsilence. Pretending nothing happened. Loving the girl whod grown up in her arms, her heart.
Mum, whats wrong? Not-her-daughter tugged her sleeve, worried. Youre crying.
Nothing, sweetheart, Emily clenched her jaw, wiping tears with the back of her hand. Just the draft.
But she knew: sometimes the truth is scarier than a lie. Because lies fade. The truth? It sticks to your soul like rust.
**Part Two: The Choice**
Three months passed. The DNA results sat in the dresser drawer like an unexploded bomb. Every time Emily opened it, her hands shook. Every wordno match, paternity excludedstabbed her heart like a knife. She reread them, hoping the words might change. That the truth would vanish if she stared long enough.
She met Charlotte again. First, in the park, under a grey sky where leaves fell like tears. They whispered like conspirators, afraid the trees would betray them. The second timeat a lawyers office, surrounded by the smell of old books and coffee.
Legally, you can sue for the mix-up, he said, spreading his hands. But court takes years. And what do you want at the end? To take your Sophie? Give theirs back?
Emily didnt answer. She stared at the photo. At the other Sophieher blood, her genes, her mirror. A girl with her brows, her laugh, her habit of twisting her hair when nervous. The one whod spent eight years believing Charlotte was her mum. The one who slept with the teddy bear Emily had bought at the hospitalnow in a strangers house.
And her real daughter? The one who called her Mum, who clung to her at night, who wrote Best Mum Ever in shaky letters for Mothers Daywas she really a stranger?
Then school called.
Sophies withdrawn, the teacher said gently. Shes not herself. Did something happen at home?
Emily knewchildren sense more than theyre told. They feel the cracks in a mothers love before they see them.
That night, she woke her husband. He sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his temples.
What now? he whispered. Do we send her away? Take the other one? What if she hates us? What if we ruin two lives to fix one?
I dont know, Emily whispered back.
But by morning, shed made her choice. No courts. No separation. Just honesty.
They met Charlotte againall of them, together. Winter had come, snow drifting outside the café window.
We wont sue, Emily said, holding Charlottes gaze. But the girls deserve the truth. And they should know each otherif they want to.
Charlotte cried silently, as if her tears were too heavy to fall.
Then something unexpected happened. The girls, whod stared at each other like ghosts at first, were soon giggling over the same silly phone video, sharing crisps, arguing about who drew better unicorns.
Mum, can Sophie and I go to the cinema Saturday? her Sophie asked, pointing at the girl who shared her soulbut not her mother.
Emily took a deep breath. Maybe blood didnt matter as much as she thought. Maybe what mattered was who held you when you were scared. Who stroked your hair when you cried. Who said, Im here,and stayed.
She hugged her not-her-daughter. And for the first time in months, she felt iteverything would be alright. Not perfect. Not easy. But alright.
**Part Three: Blood and Heart**
A year passed. The girls were inseparable, like sistersnot by blood, but by soul. They squabbled over trivial thingswho got the window seat, who borrowed lipstick without asking. Laughed at jokes adults didnt get. Swapped clothes for fun. Sometimes, they called each other sis. SometimesI wish I were you.
Then one day, the other Sophie didnt show up for their usual park meet-up. Charlotte texted:
*Cant make it today. Sick.*
Emily shrugged it off. But when it happened three times in a row, when Sophie stopped answering calls, she knewsomething was wrong.
She rang Charlotte. A long pause. Then a voice like crushed thorns.
Hello?
Whats going on? Emily asked bluntly.
Silence. Just breathing. Then a whisper:
She found the DNA test. In my papers.
Emily went cold.
And?
She says she hates me. That I stole her life. Charlottes voice cracked. She wants to live with you.
That evening, the doorbell rang. On the doorstep stood Sophiepale, red-eyed, backpack in hand. And on her shoulderthe teddy bear. The one Emily had bought.
I cant stay there, she whispered. Shes not my mum.
Emily froze. Behind her stood the other Sophiethe one whod grown up here, who called her Mum, who drew her heart-shaped notes.
Mum? Her voice trembled. Is it true?
Emily gripped the doorframe. The world split in two. A year ago, shed dreamed of this momentof reclaiming her blood, her flesh. But now? Her heart was being torn apart.
Because both girls were staring at her with the same question:
*Who will you choose?*
**Part Four: The Break**
Three days of icy silence. The biological Sophie slept on the pull-out couch; the other locked herself in her room. Her husband chain-smoked on the balcony, avoiding both girls. Home had become a prison, every step echoing with pain.
On the fourth day, the school rang.
