After picking up a pair of twin girls out in the middle of nowhere, man left them at home with his paralyzed wife and took off..

When asked if Sarah took John as her husband, she could only blink. Everyone took it as a yes, and they were married. John put a ring on her finger, and her ring he hung on a chain around his neck.

No need for jewelry on her now, just in case. After the wedding, John took her to his place. He was living alone by then. His mom had moved to his sister’s, her health failing.

So John and Sarah started their life together. Her adoptive parents visited a few times. Saw everything was in order.

Sarah was cared for, her eyes bright, not sad. So they left them be, let them live as they chose. John worried they’d never have kids, likely never would, as the doctor said.

But he never let Sarah see his pain. One thing puzzled him—what happened to her?

They found her like this, near the old mill. Not long after the wedding, Sarah started to speak. Only sometimes, and not much.

Her words were slurred, often unclear. John thought to ask her what happened but stopped himself.

What if it was something awful? Why stir up those memories? It wouldn’t help her recover. What’s done is done, he decided. As we said, he had to quit being a ranger.

For treatment in the city, or better yet abroad, they needed money, and a ranger’s pay was small. So John got a factory job in the city. Not a fortune, but enough to live on.

They could even save a bit, slowly. That’s how they lived until the day John found the girls in the woods. Life’s a strange thing, John thought.

Some get no kids, while others abandon theirs in the forest. Maybe the girls got lost. But it’s night now, and no one’s come looking.

By now, search parties and police should be combing the area. If they’re camp kids, someone should’ve noticed. But no one’s raised the alarm.

And they’re too young for camp. What happened to them? This work call was bad timing. He should’ve questioned the girls.

Who are they? Where from? Emma and Ava, Ava and Emma. Maybe it’s a sign from fate. Twins.

He’d happily take them in, raise them. John wanted a boy, like most men. But girls are good too, and two of them.

Then he remembered Sarah asking him once, “Who’d you choose if I had a twin sister? Just like me, identical.” “Why choose? I already picked you,” John had smiled.

“But if she was normal, not like me now?” Sarah pressed. “Still you. You’re my one and only,” John had said, kissing her.

“But imagine you’re not the only one,” Sarah insisted. “I remember the orphanage, just a bit. I had a twin sister.”

“You were adopted at three. What could you remember?” John was surprised. “I barely recall anything before school, just Dad teaching me to ride a bike, and falling off a neighbor’s apple tree, then Dad whipping me with nettles.”

“For what?” “For stealing apples.” “That’s all I remember. And you were three.”

“No, I remember,” Sarah said. “Check the records. Maybe you sat in front of a mirror and thought it was a sister…”

“Who splits up twins? Think about it. Back then, they’d send twins to different army units, but now they serve together.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Sarah sighed. At work, John handled the crisis quickly and hurried home.

The guys offered to stay, celebrate fixing the issue. But John wanted to get back. How were the girls? “Like a real family man,” a coworker teased.

“Who knows, maybe I will be,” John said, rushing to the train. His heart was uneasy.

When he got home, he froze at the sight. The girls, left alone, had warmed up, their fear fading, and started exploring. And what’s the first thing kids do? Right, they go where they’re told not to.

“Let’s peek at the lady,” one sister suggested. “Uncle said not to,” the other replied.

“Just a quick look, we won’t touch anything,” the first said. “Okay, just a peek,” the second agreed. Twins are like that.

One eggs on, the other follows. So it was with Emma and Ava. Ava was quiet, calm.

Emma was always chasing trouble, not just for herself. The girls opened the door, peeking into the room. A woman lay on the bed.

Pillows propped her up. The girls saw her and rushed over. “Mommy, Mommy, what are you doing here? Get up, let’s go home!”

They hugged Sarah, crying, kissing her hands, cheeks. But Sarah couldn’t move. Where did these kids come from? Calling her Mommy?

She’d never had kids, she’d know. And twin girls, at that. The girls sobbed.

“Mommy, Mommy!” Sarah looked at them and felt like she was staring in a mirror. She had a photo like that, with her adoptive parents, a year after they took her in.

“Girls, where are you from?” Sarah asked. “Mommy, get up!” they kept saying.

But how could she? Sarah tried, but it was no use. Then tried again. The girls cried.

She so wanted to comfort them. So there they sat, the three of them on the bed, until John came home…