She Told Me to Forget Her — But a Year Later, the Truth Changed Everything

I was born when my mother was just 17 years old.

She gave me up right after I entered the world.

I was adopted by a kind family who raised me with love, but deep down, I always carried a quiet ache. It wasn’t bitterness. It wasn’t even anger. It was longing. An invisible thread that tugged at my heart, whispering, Find her.

By the time I was 20, that whisper had grown into something louder—more insistent.

So I did the thing I had both dreamed of and feared most: I went looking for my birth mother.

The Day I Found Her

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