My name is Sarah. I’m 34 now. This happened three months ago, on the 12th of August, my daughter Mia’s tenth birthday.
Mia is my whole world. She has these big hazel eyes, curly brown hair that fights every brush, and a laugh that sounds like wind chimes. Everyone says she looks exactly like me when I was little. I always smiled and said thank you. That smile was a lie I had practiced for eleven years.
The party was small — just family, a few school friends, pizza, and the chocolate cake Mia begged for. My parents came. My older brother Mark came with his wife and kids. And then there was Alex.
Alex is my coworker. We started at the company the same week eleven years ago. He’s quiet, kind, always wore the same soft gray sweater that made him look like he belonged in a library. For years we were just “work friends.” We grabbed coffee, complained about deadlines, shared playlists. Nothing more. At least that’s what I told myself.
The truth is, one night after a late project, we went for drinks. One drink became four. We ended up at his apartment. It was only once. We woke up the next morning, panicked, and swore it would never happen again. We went back to being “just friends” at the office. I never told him I got pregnant. I never told anyone.
I raised Mia alone. My parents helped. I told everyone the father was a guy I dated briefly who didn’t want to be involved. Simple story. Clean story. Safe story.
Fast forward to the birthday party.
We’re all in my living room. Balloons everywhere. Mia is wearing the purple crown we bought her. Everyone is singing “Happy Birthday.” She closes her eyes, makes a wish, and blows out the candles in one breath. We cheer. Then my mom says, “Let’s open presents!”
The first gift is from Alex. He wasn’t even supposed to come — I invited him last minute because Mia adores “Uncle Alex” from all the times he’s visited with little gifts and silly jokes. He hands her a beautifully wrapped box. Inside is the exact LEGO set she circled in the catalog a hundred times.
Mia screams with joy, hugs him tight, and yells, “Thank you, Uncle Alex! You always know what I love!”
Then she looks up at him, still hugging, and says the sentence that stopped my heart:
“You have the same eyes as me, Uncle Alex. Look!” She grabs his face with both her little hands and turns it toward my parents. “See? Same color. Same shape. Mommy says I got my eyes from her side of the family, but yours are exactly the same!”
The room went dead quiet.
My dad chuckled at first, thinking it was cute. My mom tilted her head, confused. Mark looked at me. I felt the blood leave my face.
Alex just stared at Mia, then slowly at me. His mouth opened, but no words came out.
Mia, innocent as ever, kept going. “It’s like we’re related or something!”
My mom laughed nervously. “Kids say the funniest things.”
