I glance at the three baby portraits in thick wooden frames.
I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck.
Because I know there's another picture somewhere - and the baby in that photo looks identical to the babies on the wall.
Somewhere, there's a photo of the original.
Ella, Betsy and I look like sisters: triplets, you might think.
But that's not what we are at all.
We are clones in hiding. We split our lives and exist as one person in the outside world. And we've always been happy.
But now I've fallen head-over-heels in love . . . and that changes everything.
Because, to let love in, I need to be allowed to be Me.
I glance at the three baby portraits in thick wooden frames.
I feel a familiar prickling on the back of my neck.
Because I know there's another picture somewhere - and the baby in that photo looks identical to the babies on the wall.
Somewhere, there's a photo of the original.
Ella, Betsy and I look like sisters: triplets, you might think.
But that's not what we are at all.
We are clones in hiding. We split our lives and exist as one person in the outside world. And we've always been happy.
But now I've fallen head-over-heels in love . . . and that changes everything.
Because, to let love in, I need to be allowed to be Me.