***

We landed in a city of strangers, spring wind cold and biting. Mike rented a car, fingers drumming the wheel the whole drive.

“We should call the police, you know. Just in case.”

“If I’m wrong, I’ll live with that,” I said. “But if I’m right… I’m not risking losing him again because I waited for someone else to tell me what to do.”

As we neared the address, my stomach twisted. The houses were neat and ordinary; lawns freshly mowed, flags hanging proudly.

Mike parked outside a faded blue door. I stared at it, heart pounding.

“We should call the police.”

“I’ll wait here if you want,” Mike offered, voice trembling.

I shook my head. “No. I want you with me.”

We walked to the door together. I knocked, three short raps. Just like Bill used to do when he forgot his keys.

The door swung open.

A young man, tall, green-eyed, and familiar, stood in the frame. He looked at us, wary.

“Can I help you?”

Up close, the resemblance was so strong I felt dizzy. I wanted to hug him, but my hands stayed clenched around Bill’s shirt.

“No. I want you with me.”

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“I… I saw your drawing. The woman in your dreams.”

He blinked, uncertain. “You look just like her.”

I nodded, fighting tears. “That’s because I think I’m your —”

Before I could finish, footsteps echoed behind him.

A woman’s voice called out. “Jamie, is someone at the door, sweetheart?”

She appeared beside him, hair pulled back, cheeks flushed. I knew her instantly.

“You look just like her.”

***

Layla, my sister.

The world tilted. I gripped the doorframe.

“Megan?” Layla gasped, shock splitting her face. “What are you doing here?”

“Is this… is this Bill? Is this my son?”

Jamie, my Bill, looked between us, confusion blooming. “What’s going on? You said that my mom…”

Layla went pale and stepped back. “Come inside,” she whispered.

Mike squeezed my arm as we stepped into a living room full of sunlight and sketchbooks. Jamie stood back, eyes wide.

“What are you doing here?”

“You left,” I said. “You never told me you took my son.”

I held out Bill’s dinosaur shirt. “He wore this every night. He called it his lucky shirt.”

Jamie stared at the shirt, then at me. “Why do I remember that? I used to dream about dinosaurs. I thought it was just… a story.”

My voice cracked. “No, honey. That was your life. With me.”