Two Destinies
Emily walked through the streets of a foreign city, feeling utterly lost. The young woman clutched a small scrap of paper like a lifeline—her last shred of hope. For two days straight, she’d been searching for work, but it was harder than she’d ever imagined.
“Thanks, we’ll call you!”
The same rehearsed line from every employer.
“But I don’t have a phone. I’m not from here, and a mobile is too expensive for me,” she tried to explain.
“Miss, did you fill out the form? If you did, we’ll consider your application,” said the HR assistant with a blank stare that made Emily squirm.
What was wrong with her? First-class degree, fluent in French and Spanish… What more did they want?
The situation was desperate. If she didn’t find a job today, she’d have to go back home. How could she face her ill mother after promising everything would be fine—that she’d find work and support them? What future was there in a tiny village with her qualifications?
“Good afternoon! I’m here about the job from the advert,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. She knew she should sound confident, but fear of another rejection choked her words.
“Fill this out,” snapped a blonde receptionist, shoving a form at her. Ten minutes later: “Thanks! We’ll definitely call you!”
“But… I don’t have a phone,” Emily said, fighting tears.
The woman looked at her like she’d just crawled out of the Stone Age.
“That’s your problem. Don’t waste my time.”
Emily turned to leave, defeated. Her last chance was gone.
Then the door burst open.
“Liz, have the suppliers arrived yet?”
The blonde stiffened. “No, Ms. Charlotte. Any minute now.”
The elegant woman turned to Emily—and froze.
The two stared at each other, mirror images. Emily couldn’t breathe.
“Uh, she’s here about the admin job,” the receptionist cut in. “Told her we’d call, but she doesn’t get it.”
“Come in,” Charlotte said abruptly, gesturing to her office.
“But the suppliers—” Liz protested.
“They can wait. Do your job.”
Inside, Charlotte sat her down. “Show me your documents. References?”
“None yet. I just graduated.” Emily handed them over, still staring at her double.
“Right. You’re hired. When can you start?”
“Now!”
“Good. Liz will show you the ropes, then take you to the restaurant. The manager, Oliver, will meet you there.”
Charlotte left instructions and walked out.
“What about the suppliers?” Liz called after her.
“Reschedule. I’m busy today.”
In her car, Charlotte covered her face with trembling hands. That girl—Emily—was her sister. She’d seen her in dreams for years, never understanding why. Now she knew—they were twins. Identical, down to the smallest birthmark.
She drove straight to her mother’s. It was time to break through the ice queen’s walls.
Margaret Whitmore had never been warm. A renowned professor of medicine, she’d raised Charlotte with rigid discipline—no hugs, no tenderness. Just expectations.
“Hello,” Margaret said stiffly. “No warning?”
“I missed you. How are you? Your health?”
“Fine. Thank you for asking.”
Charlotte took a breath. “Mum—tell me about my sister.”
Margaret went pale. “How did you—? Who told you?”
Bingo.
Charlotte’s heart raced. “I met her yesterday. I *knew* the second I saw her. We’re identical. She’s been in my dreams forever—there’s this… connection.”
Margaret sighed. “I devoted my life to my career. By the time I wanted children… it was too late. Then they brought in a young woman from the countryside—” Her voice cracked. “Twins. A C-section. And all I could think was—why her? Why not me?”
“So you just… took me?”
“It wasn’t simple! Do you have any idea what I risked?” Margaret snapped. “Who told you?”
“No one. I saw Emily. There’s no doubt—she’s my twin. The dreams—they were real.”
“You can’t judge me! I gave you opportunities your birth mother never could! Look at you—owning restaurants! What would you be there? A nobody!”
“You forgot to give me *love*,” Charlotte whispered. “Why did you take me from her? From my sister?”
“Get out!” Margaret hissed.
Charlotte fled in tears. She spent hours on a park bench, numb.
By evening, she went to the restaurant.
“Oliver—did Emily come for training?”
“Yes, Ms. Whitmore. Sharp girl. Relative of yours? Spitting image.”
“Her details. Now.”
He handed over an address—a dingy shared flat.
Charlotte knocked on a peeling door.
“Who’re you after?” slurred a swaying elderly tenant.
“Emily. Your lodger.”
Five minutes later, a sleepy Emily appeared—then paled. “Did something happen? Oliver said to come at nine—”
“Come outside. We need to talk.”
The conversation was raw. Charlotte fumbled for words.
“Emily… doesn’t it seem strange? How alike we are?”
“I’ve been thinking about it all night,” Emily admitted. “Never seen anything like it.”
Charlotte took a shaky breath. “Because we’re twins. Sisters.”
Silence. Then Emily’s eyes filled.
“How?”
“Our birth mother—*your* mum—doesn’t know. She thought she had one baby. Tell me… what’s she like?”
“Kind. Warm. But she’s been ill since Dad died.” Emily laughed tearfully. “Feels like a film plot. I’ve dreamed of you for years.”
“Me too,” Charlotte whispered. “Can we see her tomorrow? I don’t want to wait.”
“Of course! God, can you imagine her face?”
“Pack your things. You’re staying with me. No sister of mine lives in this dump. We’ll bring your mum to the city—get her proper care. Run the business together.”
They clung to each other, crying. For the first time, both felt whole.
Later, their birth mother considered suing Margaret—but in time, chose peace over vengeance. What mattered was finding her daughter.
Margaret eventually came to Charlotte, shattered.
“Forgive me. I’ll beg on my knees if I must—I ruined lives.”
Charlotte hugged her. “Our mother forgave you. So have I. You’re not a villain—just… flawed.”
In that embrace, both understood: they weren’t strangers. Just people who’d forgotten how to love.
