JORDAN’S POV
As I watched the little girl walk away, an inexplicable sense of connection lingered. Her resemblance to me was uncanny, and I couldn't shake the feeling. When she mentioned her mother's name, Layla, my heart skipped a beat.
It was the same name as my late wife.
I felt lost in thought, my mind racing with possibilities. Why did this child look so much like me? Was it a mere coincidence? I questioned myself, trying to rationalize the connection.
"Foolish," I muttered, chastising myself for not following her to meet her mother. I needed answers.
I attempted to clear my head, shaking off the unsettling feelings. "You have no connection to the little girl," I told myself firmly. "It's just a coincidence."
But the image of her face lingered, haunting me.
I took a deep breath
