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“I always wondered if she thought about me,” Hannah said quietly. “I didn’t want to believe she just moved on.”
“She didn’t,” I said. “She just didn’t know how to look back.”
We didn’t rewrite the past. But we agreed on one thing: we wanted to keep talking. We started texting.
Sending pictures. Meeting up when we could.
A few weeks later, we did a DNA test. Mostly to shut up the tiny voice in both our heads that whispered, What if?
The results came back: full sibling match. Not just a tired mom at my register.
Not just a letter. My sister.
Now, Hannah and Eli come into the store sometimes.
He reaches for me when he sees me, little hands grabbing my apron. I keep his picture in my locker right above my schedule and a stupid old coupon.
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