They Rewrote My Memories to Bury Her Murder

After the college entrance exam ended, my mother, who had died years ago, suddenly came back.

Though she had undergone permanent sterilization, she was somehow pregnant.

She used to be severely allergic to mangoes, yet now she could drink an entire glass of mango juice without flinching.

The red birthmark behind her ear had vanished, replaced by a butterfly tattoo.

Deep down, I knew she wasn’t my mother.

But my father and everyone else dismissed it as stress from the exam.

They said I was just seeing things.

I called the police, and they ran a DNA test.