The Reunion That Changed More Than I Ever Imagined

I came into this world when my mother was just seventeen — too young, too fragile, and far too scared.
The day she gave birth to me, she also gave me away.
Not because she didn’t love me… but because love, in her world, meant letting go.

She wanted me to have a better life — one with stability, not scandal.
But as I grew older, that empty space in my chest only deepened. Every birthday candle I blew out carried the same silent wish:
Who are you, Mom?
Did you ever think of me?

The Search

When I turned twenty, I decided I couldn’t live with those questions anymore.
I tracked her down after months of searching — old documents, whispers, and one lucky phone call that led me to her address.

The day I stood before her house, my hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
It was a modest home with white curtains fluttering in the window. The scent of jasmine drifted through the gate, soft and almost motherly — like the hug I had imagined my whole life.

When the door opened, I saw her.
She was older now, but there was no mistaking her — the same brown eyes, the same small dimple on the left cheek. Her hands trembled when she saw me.
For a moment, I thought time would finally heal itself.

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