I’d Been Ashamed of the Birthmark on My Forehead Since Childhood – 25 Years Later, It Changed My Life

The assistant stopped typing.

I thought my worst fear had come true, that someone important had looked at me and decided I wasn’t worth their time.

Then he looked directly at my forehead.

What?!

I couldn’t speak. My throat had closed up entirely.

The assistant looked between us, her confusion obvious.

“Sir?”

He waved her out without taking his eyes off me.

His hand was shaking. “Please. Give us a moment.”

When the door closed, he sank into the chair across from me, staring like he was afraid I’d disappear if he blinked.

Like I was something fragile that might shatter.

“That mark,” he said quietly. “That exact mark.”

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