“That’s okay. He can watch from here.” I set the toy safely on the counter. “Arms up!”
As I helped Sam undress, I noticed something that stopped my heart.
Sam had a distinctive birthmark on his left foot. I’d seen that exact mark before, on Mark’s foot, during countless summer days by the pool. The same unique curve, the same placement.
My hands trembled as I bathed Sam, and my mind raced.
“You’ve got magic bubbles,” Sam said, poking at the foam I’d barely registered adding to the water.
“They’re extra special bubbles,” I muttered, watching him play. His smile, which had seemed so uniquely his own, now held echoes of my husband’s.
That night, after tucking Sam into his new bed, I confronted Mark in our bedroom. The distance between us on the king-size mattress felt infinite.
“The birthmark on his foot is identical to yours.”
