15 Years After My Little Boy Died, I Met A Stranger With The Same Birthmark—Then He Whispered, “I Remember You…”

Brown hair.
Exhausted eyes.

Nothing unusual.

At least not until I turned to prepare the drink and caught sight of his neck.

And froze.

The mark sat exactly where Cassian’s had been.

Same shape.
Same placement.
Same rough edges.

For a second, my lungs simply stopped working.

No.

Impossible.

Birthmarks happen all the time.

Grief distorts people.

I forced myself to continue reading …