My True Family Found Me, But Chose the Impostor

When my parents finally found me, I had just returned from overseas and was tending to my grandfather’s neglected land—clearing the overgrowth, turning soil, and trying to breathe life back into a place forgotten by time.

They saw me like that: tanned from the sun, covered in sweat and dirt, looking more like an old village farmer than the son they’d lost.

The moment Lisha Park laid eyes on me, her face crumpled. My features mirrored hers too closely—seventy percent, they’d later say.