A year ago, I thought I had lost my son, and it was an incredibly tough time for me. My closest friend, Sarah, kept encouraging me to move on, and eventually, I managed to cope.
Some time later, she got a job in another city and moved away. I decided to surprise her with a visit, but when I walked into her house, I saw someone who looked just like my son.
“Mom?” he said, his voice filled with shock and joy.
I stood there, stunned. Sarah rushed forward, her face pale. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she stammered. “He’s an adopted boy.”
I couldn’t believe it. My mind raced. How could this be? I contacted the authorities and shared my concerns. They took my statement seriously and began an investigation.
Days turned into weeks, and the tension between Sarah and me grew unbearable. She avoided me, and I felt a deep sense of confusion and betrayal. The authorities questioned her extensively, and eventually, the truth came to light.
It turned out that my son had not been lost as I had believed. The story of his disappearance had been a misunderstanding. Sarah had always been there, comforting me, while knowing more than she had revealed.
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