Lucy stared unblinkingly at the glowing television screen, but her mind was miles away. It had been a month since she had found her aunt Madison, and she had not told Elsa earlier on informing her about the news because she had not remember to inform Elsa and didn't want to tell her because Elsa would be sad she would be going to leave with her aunt.
Her mind drifted back to that afternoon months ago—standing inside a cramped telephone booth on a busy street, the receiver pressed tight against her ear, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.
"Who is this?" a woman's voice asked.
Madison was in her forties, at home and clutching her phone. Brown hair fell past her shoulders, framing fair skin, striking green eyes, and cherry-tinted lips. She had an average height and a natural grace—pretty in a way that commanded instant trust.
"I'm Lucy," she said, her voice shaking. "I was wondering… did you lose a child fourteen years ago?"
Dead silence. Then, a cautious, trembling whisper: "Yes."
Lucy looked down at the photograph in her hand: herself at seven years old, hair tied in a neat ponytail, wearing a purple dress, and clutching a pink adventure bag.
"Can you describe her?" Lucy asked, desperate for proof. "Exactly?"
"She had black hair," Madison said, her voice distant, as if she were reaching back through years of fog to touch a memory. "Worn in a ponytail."
Lucy's breath hitched. That matched.
"She had dark green eyes. And she was wearing a purple dress that day."
Lucy's fingers trembled. Anyone could guess green eyes, and a purple dress was common. She forced herself not to hope yet; she had read too many stories about imposters.
"She wore black shoes," Madison continued, her voice softening, "with purple socks—she always liked matching them to her dresses. And she was holding her favorite bag." She paused, choking back emotion. "We were leaving for a trip. At the train station. We were going to Aoston... and then I lost her."
Lucy's pulse roared in her ears. Aoston. No one else knew that destination.
"Aunt…" Lucy's voice broke. "It's me. I'm Lucy."
A sharp, ragged intake of breath echoed on the other end. "What did you say?" Madison couldn't dare to believe the words.
"I'm Lucy," she repeated, though the confession felt sudden and terrifying.
Madison's tone instantly turned to steel. She wouldn't be fooled—not after fourteen years of dead ends and false leads. "If you're Lucy, tell me your full names. The ones your mum and I gave you. Say them. Now."
Lucy's stomach twisted into a knot. "Lucy Lilith Alora Alison. Auntie... you used to call me Lilly when you carried me."
Madison dropped her hand, covering her mouth as a sob escaped. Those were the exact names her sister had given Lucy, and Alison was a middle name only she and her late sister had shared. No one else on earth knew it. Still, the weight of seventeen years made caution hard to shed. She wanted to believe, but she needed absolute certainty.
"If you're Lucy," Madison pressed gently, testing one last time, "do you have a birthmark on your wrist?"
Lucy frowned, confused. "No, I don't. But I have one on my right eyebrow." She answered slowly, unsure if that was the "right" answer.
Madison's breath left her in a rush, and her brown eyes lit up with sudden tears. Her Lucy did have a birthmark on her right eyebrow, not her wrist—a faint mark she always traced when comforting the little girl. She had expected a simple, hopeful "yes," not the precise correction.
Just to be thorough, Madison tested her one more time. "Do you have one on your abdomen?" she asked, trying to sound indifferent, as if the answer wouldn't shatter her world.
"No, I don't," Lucy replied simply.
Joy slammed into Madison, fierce and overwhelming. She clutched the phone tight, tears finally spilling over her lashes. This was her niece. The names were the ultimate proof—a secret shared only by sisters long since separated by tragedy, along with the birth marks.
"Lucy," Madison whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "It's me. I'm your aunt Madison."
Lucy hesitated, a strange warmth blooming in her chest. Why did every instinct telling her this voice was true feel so undeniable? She had missed this connection for fourteen years, and though the reality was sinking in slowly, deep down, she knew she had found her family.
At Madison's gentle request, Lucy snapped a quick picture of herself and texted it over. As they stayed on the phone for a long, tearful chat, the mirror didn't lie. Lucy saw the striking resemblance to her late mother, while Madison saw her own features mirrored back in the young woman on the screen—the same eyes, the same face shape. Though Madison carried the silver threads of age and her hair was a soft brown instead of black, the bond between them was undeniable.
They were both finally, deeply, happy.