I was standing in line at the pharmacy when a woman said, «you look just like my sister.» I smiled politely. She added, «she went missing 25 years ago.» I laughed nervously and said, «what was her name?» She stared at me and said, «your name.» The bottle dropped from my hand…

There’s something else, she said as I sealed the sample. Your parents, Susan and Michael Thompson. I need to know how they got you.

They’re good people, I said defensively. They love me. I’m not saying they don’t.

But Jessica, if you’re Rachel, they’ve had someone else’s child for 25 years. They’ve known you were missing. Your face has been on milk cartons and websites and TV shows.

How did they never see it? I thought about my parents’ reluctance to travel. Their vague answers about our life before Portland, the way they’d always change the subject when I asked about extended family. We’ll have answers soon, Carol said gently.

But in my heart, I already know. A mother knows her child even after 25 years. She reached across the table and took my hand.

Her touch was warm, familiar in a way that made my chest tight. I never stopped looking for you, Rachel. Not for a single day.

The DNA results came back in 10 days instead of two weeks. I’d been checking my email obsessively, refreshing every few minutes, my stomach in knots. When the notification finally appeared, I stared at it for 20 minutes before finding the courage to open it.

99.9% match. I was Rachel Marie Anderson. I sat on my bathroom floor and cried until I couldn’t breathe.

Not sad tears, exactly. Not happy ones either. They were tears of complete dissolution, like I was melting away and reforming as someone else entirely.

The confrontation with my parents was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I drove to their house on a Sunday, knowing they’d both be home. Mom answered the door with her usual bright smile, but it faded when she saw my face.

«‘We need to talk,’ I said. They sat on their beige couch holding hands as I showed them the DNA results. Mom started crying immediately.

Dad’s face went gray. «‘We wanted a baby so badly,’ Mom whispered. «‘We’d tried for 10 years.

«‘Three miscarriages, failed adoptions. «‘Then Michael’s cousin called, «‘said she knew someone who had a little girl «‘who needed a home. «‘The mother was supposedly a drug addict «‘who’d abandoned her.

«‘You knew,’ I said. «‘You had to know that wasn’t true.’ Dad finally spoke, his voice barely audible. «‘We suspected, but we were desperate.

«‘And you were so perfect, so sweet. «‘We told ourselves we were saving you.’ «‘From what? «‘From a family who loved me? «‘Who searched for me for 25 years?’ «‘We moved here from Ohio, not California,’ Mom admitted, «‘changed our names slightly. «‘Michael was Mark before.

«‘I was Sandra, not Susan. «‘We created new identities and never looked back. «‘Every missing child poster, every news story, «‘you had to have seen my face.’ «‘We avoided them,’ Dad said.

«‘Never watched the news. «‘Never looked at those posters. «‘We convinced ourselves you were better off with us.

«‘They’d loved me, that was true. «‘Given me piano lessons and helped with homework «‘and cheered at every soccer game. «‘But they’d also stolen me from another family «‘who’d loved me first.

«‘They’d let Carol Anderson spend 25 years «‘wondering if her daughter was dead or alive. «‘The legal complexities took months to sort out. «‘My parents faced charges for custodial interference «‘and identity fraud…