She wasn't.
She was Elena.
My twin.
Or at least, someone claiming to be her.
## The Door Opens
The key from my father's box fit the lock.
I stood there for several seconds before turning it.
The door opened.
The room was almost empty.
There was a chair.
A table.
A small lamp.
And a woman sitting beside the window.
She looked at me.
I looked at her.
Neither of us spoke.
She was older than me.
But only slightly.
And there was something unmistakably familiar about her face.
My eyes.
My nose.
My mother's smile.
I whispered:
"Elena?"
She nodded.
And then she started crying.
## The Truth My Family Buried
She told me the story slowly.
Our parents had discovered her illness shortly after we were born.
Doctors believed she needed specialized treatment.
My parents were young and overwhelmed.
My father had been convinced that separating us was the only way to give both children a chance.
