Stella didn't need a second to guess the identity of the woman in the portrait, even though she had never actually met her before.
Looking at the woman was like looking into a mirror. The similarities between them were so uncanny that Stella could hardly tear her eyes away.
The shape of her face, the dark hair, the delicate features, and even the gentle expression in her eyes all felt strangely familiar.
Then came the memory of those nightmares. She was the woman from her dreams.
The woman who had been running through the darkness with a child clutched tightly in her arms.
She was her mother.
The realization struck Stella with such force that her heart clenched painfully inside her chest.
With extra care, she lifted the portrait from the floor and carried it back toward the bed.
She sat down slowly, resting the portrait against her knees as she continued to stare at the woman who had given birth to her.
The woman in the portrait was breathtakingly beautiful.
