Carla was enjoying a rare moment of quiet in her classroom. As a teacher, silence was something she rarely experienced, and when she did, she cherished it. It didn’t matter how old the students were—silence meant peace.
She loved her job. She loved children. But deep down, she carried a sadness no one could see: she had once been a mother. And now, she couldn’t be one again.
Soon, the room filled with students, laughter, and chatter. The peaceful moment was gone, replaced by the usual noise of school life. Carla smiled and turned to her lesson plans, trying to focus. Today, a new student was joining the class, an exchange student. Carla hoped the kids would be kind and make her feel welcome.
The bell rang. The students took their seats. Carla stood up, ready to begin, when the classroom door opened. The school principal walked in with a girl beside her. The girl looked calm, but not nervous—more like annoyed.
“Everyone, this is Liliana,” the principal said. “She’s from Spain and will be with us for a few months. Please make her feel welcome.”
The girl looked around with a flat expression. “I go by Lily,” she said.
Carla watched her closely. There was something about this girl that felt oddly familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.
Trying to be warm, Carla asked Lily to introduce herself. Lily sighed and said she had been adopted as a baby and was staying with her aunt to learn about her roots. She added that she liked swimming.
As she walked to her seat, Carla noticed something that made her heart freeze.
A birthmark. Shaped like a crescent moon, right on Lily’s neck.
Carla’s breath caught. Her hands shook.
“Lily,” she said, her voice trembling. “Have you had that birthmark since you were born?”
Lily looked confused but nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
Carla couldn’t believe it. She excused herself and left the classroom, her legs barely holding her up. As soon as the door closed, she broke down crying.
Fourteen years ago, Carla had held a baby with that exact birthmark in her arms.
Her baby.
Carla had been just sixteen when she gave birth. She remembered lying in the hospital bed, filled with love and fear. The baby girl had been perfect, peaceful… hers. She’d named her secretly in her heart.
But Carla’s mother, Rose, had other plans.
“You can’t raise this baby,” Rose had said, taking the child from her arms. “You’re too young. I’ve already found a couple to adopt her.”
Carla had begged, screamed, and cried, but it was no use. Her mother walked away with the baby—and that was the last time Carla saw her.
She tried for years to find her daughter, but with no names or details, it was like chasing shadows. Eventually, she got married and tried to have more children, but after several heartbreaking attempts, doctors told her it wasn’t possible.
Her marriage didn’t survive the pain.
Now, here she was, standing in a school bathroom, staring at her tear-streaked face in the mirror. Her lost daughter had just walked into her classroom, and Carla didn’t know what to do.
Later that day, she found the student info sheet the principal had given her. It had Lily’s home address and her parents’ emails. Carla hesitated, then opened her laptop and started typing.
“Dear Mr. and Mrs. Henderson,” she wrote. “I believe Lily is my biological daughter. Fourteen years ago, I gave birth to a baby girl who was taken from me. I saw a birthmark on Lily’s neck today that matches the one my daughter had. Please, I ask for your permission to tell her the truth.”
After reading her words again and again, Carla hit send.
The wait was painful. She checked her inbox every few minutes. Hours passed. Nothing.
Finally, late that evening, she got a reply.
“Dear Carla, we understand this is difficult for you. But you have no right to tell Lily about this. If you do, we will remove her from the school.”
Carla stared at the screen in shock. Tears poured down her face. It felt like she was losing her daughter all over again.
She cried for hours, asking the same question over and over: Why? Why did my mother take her from me?
The next day at school, Carla was quieter than usual. After class, Lily approached her with a book in her hands.
“I read the book you assigned,” Lily said. “I really liked it.”
Carla smiled through the ache in her chest. “I’m glad. What did you enjoy most about it?”
“The way the main character learns what real friendship means,” Lily replied. “It made me think.”
They sat and talked for a while about the book, and Carla listened closely—not just to Lily’s words, but to her voice, her expressions, her heart.
In that moment, Carla realized something.
She might never get to tell Lily the truth. She might never be called “Mom” by her. But she could still be someone in her life. A guide. A mentor. A safe place.
Maybe that would be enough.
For now.
Dedicated and experienced pet-related content writer with a passion for animals and a proven track record of creating engaging and informative content. Skilled in researching, writing, and editing articles that educate and inspire pet owners. Strong knowledge of animal behavior, health, and care, combined with a commitment to delivering high-quality content that resonates with audiences. Seeking to leverage writing skills and passion for pets to contribute to a dynamic and mission-driven team.