Emily tries to laugh it off when her five-year-old daughter begins to talk about a mystery “clone,” but then a secret that has been kept since birth is revealed by a hidden camera and a quiet voice speaking in a foreign language. This is a poignant, eerie tale about identity, parenting, and the family we didn’t realise we were missing.
That day, I came home from work exhausted in a manner that only mothers can relate to—a fatigue that lingers behind your eyes even when you’re grinning.
I was halfway to the couch after kicking off my shoes and pouring a glass of juice when I sensed a slight tug on my sleeve.
“Mommy,” Lily murmured gravely and with wide eyes. “Want to meet your clone?”
“My what?” I let out a gasp. Did five-year-old Lily even understand what a clone was?
She repeated, “Your clone,” as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She visits when you’re at work. She’s here, according to Daddy, so I won’t miss you too much.
At first, I laughed. When children say something strange and you’re not sure if you should be worried or not, adults laugh in a light-hearted, apprehensive manner. I was occasionally alarmed by Lily’s remarkable eloquence for her age.
However, there was something about Lily’s confident and informal delivery that made my skin tingle. I was very certain she wasn’t referring to a fictional friend.
For the previous six months, my spouse, Jason, had been on parental leave. We had decided that he would stay at home with Lily and I would work full-time after my promotion.
It was logical. He was very good with her, really. He was lively, patient, and present, but lately, something didn’t feel right. I had been ignoring any bothersome ideas, but now I felt powerless.
It didn’t help that Lily was saying bizarre things.
“Your twin tucked me in for my nap yesterday.”
“Mama, you sounded different when you read the story about the bear and the bee.”
“Mama, you had curlier hair this morning. What took place?”
Every fibre in my body warned me not to, but I put it down to her crazy imagination. It was not that easy. It isn’t possible.
Additionally, Jason simply grinned and remarked, “You know how kids are.”
But that discomfort? It stayed with me.
I was brushing Lily’s hair after supper one evening when she turned to look at me.
“She always arrives before nap time, Mama. Occasionally, they enter the bedroom and close the door.”
Calmly, I said, “They?” “Who?”
She exclaimed, “Daddy and your clone!”
Mid-stroke, my hand froze.
“Do they tell you not to come in?” Gently, I enquired.
“But I peeked once,” she said with a nod.
“And what were they busy doing?” Before my child could even speak, I shivered and asked.
When she said, “I’m not sure,” “Daddy appeared to be in tears. She gave him a hug. After that, she spoke in a foreign language.”
An alternative language? What in the world was happening in my house?
I sat at the kitchen table in the dark that night after Lily had gone to bed, looking at my unfinished plate. I had lost my appetite. All of my thoughts were revolving around the same impossibly difficult question, like water down a slow drain:
What if it’s not her imagination?
I felt much more worn out and anxious than the night before after a restless night. I got Lily’s old nanny cam out of a storage container in the hall closet when the dawn light filled our bedroom.
There was no longer a need for a nanny or nanny cam when Jason made the decision to take parental leave.
As I untangled the cord, my hands trembled a little. Fortunately, it still functioned when I tested it. I placed it in our bedroom at the ideal position, tucked away in the bookcase.
I then texted my employer to request a leave of absence for the afternoon. I didn’t care that it was a falsehood. Hours before anything happened, my heart had already begun to race.
I arrived at the local library shortly after noon and prepared my laptop so I could see the live television feed.
After a short while, I sipped some water and grinned at a young adolescent pair who were attempting to blend in between the shelves. That was also how Jason and I had been. As a young couple, we were constantly touching one other. At the hip, always. Constantly grinning.
I was about to lose myself in my thoughts when the live feed started to shift. Eager to hear something, anything, I put on my headphones.
A woman was present. She entered my bedroom as though she was accustomed to it. She had slightly darker skin and slightly longer hair than I did.
However, that face… that face was definitely mine.
As if it might malfunction and make more sense, I gazed at the screen. My lips were parched. My hands are chilly.
I hurriedly put my laptop away and headed home. I ran home after parking a block or so away.
I whispered to myself, “Here goes nothing,” as I slipped through the rear door and stood in the hallway’s shadow, my heart thumping.
The main room was filled with faint laughing. Additionally, a gentle feminine voice… in Spanish.
I took a slow, steady step forward.
Jason was standing there with Lily’s hand in his. His eyes were red from crying, not from sleep deprivation or prolonged screen staring.
Emotion has always been a part of him. Just… full of feeling, not frail. It was all spilling out now.
And she was beside him. The live feed’s female character.
My copy. My identical twin. My… something.
In all honesty, she was a woman who resembled me in a previous life. She seemed warmer, slimmer, and slightly dishevelled. She was not a fraud. Not even an unknown individual.
She was unique.
Lily’s expression brightened.
“Mama!” she cried out. “Astonishment! You arrived home early! Isn’t she stunning? Your replica!”
The lady’s eyes glistened. She took a shaky step forward.
“I’m so sorry…” With my name dragged, she replied, “I didn’t want to frighten you, Emily.” “I’ve been… waiting for this moment my entire life.”
There was a soft Argentine lilt in her voice. It all sounded like music with that undertone, even if her English was flawless.
Jason looked at me, softly, almost anxiously.
Softly, “This is Camila,” he said. “She’s your twin sister.”
I was unable to talk. I was no longer supported by my knees. So I fell down on the sofa.
My entire body changed from chilly to numb to burning. A twin sister? How in the world did that occur?
Jason knelt next to me and spoke quietly.
Two months ago, she got in touch with me. via a global adoption register. She has spent years looking for you. She didn’t want to bother you too much.
He hesitated. I let the room to get quiet. Lily sat silently, too.
“Camila reached out to me first… just to be sure. She was afraid. And honestly… so was I. I was going to tell you the night before last. But I panicked. I thought maybe… you’d never forgive me.”
He filled me in on everything. My mind seems to have forgotten about the rural hospital where we were born. He told me about the tumultuous documents, the open adoption, and the devoted couple who reared her in Argentina. She was raised knowing two languages, attending a good school, and knowing that she had a sister someplace.
And how Camila had been looking for years.
She apparently came into an article about my company’s most recent charity campaign while browsing online forums and registries. There was a picture of me with balloons all around me, grinning and proud.
She recognised my eyes right away.
I stared at him while he talked. glanced closely.
The eyes were crimson. His voice trembled a little.
For weeks, he had been keeping this truth close to his chest while arranging this reunion, assisting Camila in meeting Lily, and attempting to keep everyone’s hearts safe. I could see it in the way he gripped Lily’s hand too tightly, as if she were the only thing keeping him grounded, and the way he kept looking between us.
I was aware of the question he must have asked himself each day: What if Emily feels deceived? What if I try to develop something different and end up wrecking it?
It wasn’t just today that brought him to tears. Before this day, there had been a lot of calm, gloomy days. And the sense of relief that it was out at last.
According to my husband, I was at work when Camila arrived. He and Lily were the only ones home, and Camila was too anxious to give me a call.
They therefore plotted and planned. It was unexpected. A slow, deliberate start. With Lily’s assistance, “make Mama ready.”
Her calling Camila a clone was unexpected. She was more literal than they had anticipated.
All they wanted was for it to be unique.
I raised my gaze to meet Camila’s. It was similar to gazing into a mirror that was illuminated by a different light. identical traits. The same mouth. However, there was music in her voice. She simultaneously sobbed and grinned.
“I just wanted to know you,” she said. “I don’t know how. But Lily… she made it easier. She’s wonderful, Emily.”
I ought to have been upset. I ought to have yelled and asked why I hadn’t heard sooner.
However, I didn’t. I got up and gave her a hug. Because I experienced something other than betrayal. Something toasty. Something that was appropriate.
Camila and I took a car out the following morning to visit my mother’s younger sister, Aunt Sofia. Since Mom’s death, we hadn’t been close for years. Just the odd Facebook like, the odd holiday card, and the infrequent phone contact to enquire about Lily’s well-being.
However, I stated, “I need to talk to you,” when I called. “Camila is with me,” she said, and then she became silent.
“Come now,” she commanded. “I’ll make breakfast.”
She opened the door with shaking hands. After staring at us like if a ghost had entered her home, she gave a little gasp.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, she cried, “Oh, Gloria,” to the ghost of my mother who had passed away. “Your girls are together again!”
With the same cracked mug in her hand, we sat at her kitchen table—the same table I coloured on as a kid.
“She looks just like you,” she said, glancing between us. “And also nothing like you. Isn’t that strange?”
Almost engrossed in her own universe, she grinned as she bit into a cake with tres leches.
It was a gentle question.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I enquired. “Why were we separated?”
Aunt Sofia let out a sigh. It was anguish, not ageing, that caused her face to collapse in on itself.
“You weren’t supposed to be separated, my darling,” she replied quietly. “You two were liked by Gloria. However, your parents were having financial difficulties at the time. Before your father obtained steady employment in the city, they were still residing in the village. They hardly had enough food to sustain two adults, much less two infants.”
She put down her drink and turned to face us.
“When you were born, Cami, you were flawless. Strong, loud, and pink! But you weren’t breathing, Emily. The midwife spent some time tending to you. Your mother believed she would lose you. She held your tiny chest against hers while she sat with you all night long, covered in a blanket. When the adoption coordinator arrived in the morning, she was unable to release you.”
I took a deep breath. Tears filled Camila’s eyes. Though my mother never talked much about it, I had always understood that my birth was complex.
“She gave me away because I was healthy?” Camila muttered.
“No, darling,” Aunt Sofia said. “She gave you away because she knew you’d survive. And she wanted to give at least one of you a life that didn’t start with struggle.”
The old refrigerator’s hum was the only sound to break the profound silence that descended upon the room.
“I think she always hoped you’d find each other one day,” she continued. “Gloria was always bringing up her ‘other girl.'” Not even at the very end.
We took each other’s hands as Camila reached across the table. There was the same pulse, the same slight shudder.
Not the same. but at last complete.
My spouse planned the party behind my back and threw it that weekend. There was a big cake, snacks, and balloons. My parents had passed away a long time ago. I assumed that I had no siblings.
Someone who had always been a part of me was now with me. I simply wasn’t aware of it yet.
Sometimes what appears to be treachery turns out to be a godsend. And occasionally your child’s most outrageous statement turns out to be the most authentic tale you were unaware you had.