I Met My Son’s Bride for the First Time at Their Wedding – Then I Saw Her Cheek, and My Blood Ran Cold

It couldn’t be.

Not after all these years. Not her.

But I knew that shape. Memories hit me like a freight train!

I had kissed that mark every night for two years, right before bedtime.

I had traced it with my finger as she slept. I had cried over it the night she disappeared.

My baby girl. My Sophie.

Twenty-five years ago, I had lost her.

One moment, she was playing with her favorite doll in our front yard, and the next, she was gone.

I had stepped inside the house only to grab a jacket.

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