When She Regained Her Sight

Chapter 3 Fake Daughter

I wiped away my tears, bandaged myself up, and changed into clean clothes.

"Mia? Mia?" I called.

I suddenly thought of my daughter. There was no way I could leave her with those two heartless monsters.

As I called for her, I saw her running across the yard, and soon, I heard her footsteps pounding up the stairs.

She wore a snow-white dress, and her blonde hair bounced around like a lively little fawn, full of energy, as she ran toward me.

My sweet, pure, and innocent sweetheart!

Just thinking of her gave me the strength to endure any pain. As long as my daughter was safe and happy, I could bear anything.

With tears welling up in my eyes, I opened my arms and waited for her to reach me at the top of the stairs.

But when I saw her angelic face up close, my arms froze.

My heart skipped a beat. My sweet daughter... looked almost exactly like Kailey!

"Mommy!" she called and threw herself into my arms, completely unaware of my sudden stiffness.

"Mommy, I picked a bunch of daisies! They're so pretty, and they smell so nice. Here, smell them!"

Mia held up a small bouquet of daisies to my nose.

I opened my mouth, but it took me a long while before saying, "Yes... they smell good."

"Mommy, what happened to your head?" Mia asked, gently touching the bandage on my forehead, her face full of concern.

"I bumped into the table, sweetie. It's nothing."

"Be careful, Mommy. Just call me if you need something, okay? I'll help you. Does it hurt? Let me blow on it."

She puckered her lips and blew gently on my wound. My eyes stung again, and I fought back more tears.

"It doesn't hurt, sweetie. It just looks bad. Now, tell me, what did you do this afternoon?"

"I picked these flowers by the big tree near the fence, and I saw a little squirrel..."

Mia clung to my waist and babbled about her day to me.

But my eyes were fixed on her hair. My hair is blonde. Kailey's is brown.

And Mia... her hair roots were brown. The rest of her hair was patchy, faded blonde. Her hair was clearly dyed!

'No, I can't believe this,' I thought to myself.

When Mia was born, the doctor said she was a beautiful little blonde girl with a heart-shaped birthmark on her bottom.

Vira had said Mia looked just like me when I was a baby. The neighbors all called her a little blonde angel.

But... could she not be my daughter?

I couldn't bring myself to believe it, and doubt crept into my heart.

I remembered when Mia was three, she went to a summer camp organized by her preschool. I didn't want my little girl away from me for a whole month, but Anthony insisted it would make her stronger.

After Mia came back from the summer camp, she seemed different.

She used to be so lively and talkative, always chattering away with a big smile on her face. But when she returned, she was quiet, hardly laughed, and had grown much taller.

Anthony told me it was because she was growing up and becoming mature.

I often heard from other mothers around me that kids grew really fast, so I stopped suspecting that.

Soon after, Anthony got transferred for work, and we moved to a new neighborhood. Mia started at a new preschool, and she gradually became cheerful again.

Even though I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off when I held her, each time she called me "Mommy", and Anthony lovingly called her "sweetheart", my doubts slipped further into my heart.

Now, after regaining my sight, I studied the face of the girl in front of me—the one I called "Mia".

'Is she really Mia?' I wondered.

"Mommy, what's wrong?" Mia asked, her voice curious. "It's like you're looking at me."

I forced a smile and replied, "I wish I could see you."

Her smile faltered for a second, her face tightening, but her voice remained cheerful.

"It's okay! Even if you can't see me, I'll always be your Mia."

"Yeah," I said in a soft tone.

My hand gently pinched her cheek and took hold of her hand.

"Are you all messy again? Let me get you a bath," I suggested.

In truth, aside from her hands, Mia was perfectly clean.

But she didn't protest but just nodded and said, "Okay, I love it when Mommy gives me baths."

Her small hand tugged mine and led me into the bathroom, careful to warn me about the steps.

She was so sweet and thoughtful—how could she not be my daughter?

Maybe I was just overthinking things, and my mind played tricks on me after all the trauma.

I turned on the faucet to check the temperature of the water with my hand.

Then, I helped Mia out of her dress. She obediently sat on the little stool with her back to me.

I dropped in the bath bombs, and she slipped into the tub.

As I looked at her bare back, I saw her smooth skin, completely spotless with no birthmark. No heart-shaped mark like the one the doctor had pointed out when she was born.

'No, no, this can't be true. Maybe it's somewhere else on her body,' I thought.

My heart started to race.

'She must be my Mia! If she's not... then where is my real daughter?' I wondered.

And anyway, there was nothing in Kailey's phone about this. I believed it must just be my imagination!

I continued washing her, scrubbing every inch, making sure she was spotless.

"Mommy," Mia mumbled, "my skin's all shiny now. If you keep scrubbing, I'll fall apart!"

I snapped out of it, realizing her fair skin was now bright red from all the scrubbing.

"I'm sorry, honey. Let's get you dressed."

I dried her off and wrapped her in a towel, then started brushing her hair.

"Mia, do you remember when you were three? You loved that dinosaur rocking toy. You begged Daddy to buy you one for the yard and cried for days about it."

Mia paused for a moment and then replied, "Oh yeah, I loved that dino rocker! But I'm a big girl now."

My heart almost shattered into pieces as I heard her answer.

The real Mia hated dinosaurs when she was little, and she was terrified of them! I'd seen her cry countless times over dinosaur toys.

If she'd said she didn't remember, I wouldn't have been so crushed.

Tears spilled from my eyes, flowing uncontrollably like a stream.

Mia, confused, wiped at my tears and asked, "Mommy, what's wrong?"

I really wanted to scream at her, "Don't call me Mommy! You're not my daughter! Where is my girl?!"