Johnny stepped toward Margaret.
“Who is that man?”
She clasped her hands.
“His name is Daniel.”
“Why does he look exactly like me?”
Margaret glanced at me, then back at him.
“Because he’s your brother.”
Johnny stared.
“I don’t have a brother.”
Margaret’s eyes filled with tears.
“You have a twin.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Johnny shook his head.
“No. My parents would have told me.”
“I wish they had.”
He looked at the photograph again.
The groom had Johnny’s dark hair, narrow nose, and slightly crooked smile.
Even the small crease beside his left eye was familiar.
“That’s not possible,” Johnny whispered.
Margaret pulled out a chair.
“Please sit down. There’s something I should have told you when you moved here.”
Johnny remained standing. “Start talking.”
Margaret explained that she and her late husband had known Johnny’s parents when they were young.
His mother had given birth to identical twins during a difficult period.
His father was struggling to find steady work, and his mother needed time to recover from the delivery.
Margaret and her husband had wanted children for years but couldn’t have any.
“They asked us to look after Daniel for a little while,” she said. “Just until things improved.”
“How long was a little while?” Johnny asked.
“At first, a few months.”
“And then?”
Margaret looked down.
“Then it became longer.”
She explained that Daniel had remained with them as a toddler. By the time he was three, he called Margaret and her husband Mom and Dad.
Eventually, the adults agreed that Daniel would stay permanently.
Johnny stared at her.
“My parents gave away my brother?”
“It wasn’t that simple.”
“Then make it simple.”
Margaret struggled to answer.
Finally, she said, “We loved him. And your parents believed he was happy with us.”
Johnny walked toward the window.
Across the street, our house stood behind its newly planted shrubs.
“We’ve lived there three weeks,” he said. “You knew who I was?”
“I recognized you the first day.”
“How?”
“Daniel showed me pictures of you online after you moved in. I’d already noticed how much you looked like him, and he wanted to know whether you were the brother he’d been searching for.”
Johnny turned sharply.
“He knows about me?”
Margaret nodded.
“He’s known since he was 18.”
Johnny’s hand tightened around mine.
“Then why hasn’t he contacted me?”
Margaret’s answer came slowly.
“He believed you didn’t want contact.”
Johnny looked as though she’d struck him.
“I didn’t even know he existed.”
Margaret began crying.
“I know.”
The oven timer sounded.
Nobody moved.
Finally, I switched it off.
Johnny asked whether Daniel was alive, where he lived, and whether he was happy.
Margaret answered carefully.
Daniel was 38, the same age as Johnny.
He lived two hours away with his wife, Claire. They had married four years earlier.
The photograph was from their wedding.
Johnny studied it again.
“He’s been married four years,” he murmured. “And I didn’t even know his name.”
Margaret approached him.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“Then why invite us here?”
She took a deep breath.
