PART 1 — THE REQUEST

My twin sister asked me to carry the baby she believed she would never be able to carry herself.

And after saying no for nearly two years, I finally agreed.

At the time, I believed I was giving Samantha the greatest gift one sister could possibly give another.

I had no idea that nine months later, she would stand inside my hospital room, stare at the newborn resting against my chest, and say:

“This is not the child we wanted.”

My name is Alison Bennett.

Samantha and I grew up in Columbus, Ohio.

Our late father used to call us:

“Two halves of the same heart.”

Corny.

But for most of our lives, it felt true.

When Samantha got her first apartment, I helped her move.

When my marriage ended years later, she slept on my sofa for almost a week because she did not want me waking up alone.

When our father died, we sat together on the floor of his garage because neither of us could bring ourselves to decide what should happen to his tools.

Samantha knew every embarrassing story about me.

Every weakness.

Every fear.

I thought I knew hers too.