The resemblance wasn’t constant.
It came in flashes. A certain expression. A certain angle. A certain look. And every time it happened, my chest tightened.
By the time they left, I had a headache. I stood at the front door watching Maddy climb into his car, then watched the taillights disappear down the street.
Only after they were gone did I finally say the name out loud.
“Jack.”
The word felt strange after all those years.
I hadn’t spoken it in a very long time. Not because I’d forgotten him, but because I’d worked hard not to remember.
Twenty years earlier, Jack and I had been inseparable. At least, that’s what everyone thought, including me.
