“No.”
She took a deep breath and began telling a story that didn’t feel real.
A car accident. Three years ago. North Carolina.
A missing person case that was never solved.
“I’ve never been to North Carolina,” I said, my voice unsteady. “And I don’t have a brother.”
“You do,” she insisted. “His name is Ford. We lived together—you, me, and Jett. You were a contractor. He was four when you disappeared.”
I looked at the boy.
Jett.
She was telling me I had a family… one I didn’t remember.
“I have a life here,” I said, my hands trembling. “I live with my girlfriend.”
But even as I spoke, something felt wrong.
There were gaps in my memory—huge, empty spaces I had never questioned.
I remembered waking up in a hospital three years ago. No ID. Just a name: Wells.
I had accepted it.
Until now.
“Why didn’t you find me?” I asked quietly.
Her face crumbled as she explained the months she spent searching—calling hospitals, posting online, chasing every lead until they all disappeared.
She pulled out a photo.
It showed her… me… and the boy.
We were smiling in front of a Christmas tree.
Happy.
Complete.
Jett had my eyes.
“I have someone now,” I said. “Paige. We’ve been together for two years.”
Tess nodded, holding back tears. She explained it might be dissociative amnesia—a response to trauma.
Jett stepped closer.
“Do you remember me?” he asked softly.
My chest tightened.
“No… I’m sorry. I wish I did.”
He sat beside me anyway, close enough that I could feel his warmth.
It was too much.
I stood up abruptly.
Tess followed.
She showed me videos—me laughing, talking, telling Jett I loved him.
My life split into two realities.
And I didn’t know which one was truly mine.
“I need time,” I finally said.
We exchanged numbers. I watched them walk away.
When I got home, Paige was waiting in the kitchen.
“You took forever,” she said, smiling—until she saw my face.
“Are you okay?”
I set the groceries down slowly.
“We need to talk.”
I told her everything.
She looked shocked… but not angry. Just heartbroken.
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