The Rich Boy Met His Homeless Twin at the Airport

Chapter 1: The Boy With His Face

"Why does he look like me?"

Ryan stopped in the middle of the airport, his small suitcase tipping beside his polished shoes. He was seven years old, dressed in a neat khaki suit, clean and perfect like a child from a rich family photo.

A few feet away, sitting near the check-in machines, was a boy with the exact same face.

But this boy was dirty.

His clothes were torn. His hair hung wet over his forehead. A dark bruise marked one cheek, and his hands were scratched from sleeping in places no child should sleep.

The poor boy slowly looked up.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then he whispered, "I thought I was the only one."

"Ryan!" a woman called.

Ryan's mother rushed through the crowd in a dark blue dress, panic in her voice. But when she reached them, she froze.

Two boys.

Same eyes.

Same nose.

Same face.

Ryan pointed at the child on the floor.

"Mom... why does he have my face?"

The poor boy stood slowly. His hand went to his chest. From under his torn shirt, he pulled out a silver chain.

A white metal tag swung beneath it.

BABY #2.

Ryan's mother gasped.

The poor boy's eyes turned cold.

"So," he said, "you do know me."