The moment you stepped into the house, your heels already in your hand and your bag slipping off your shoulder, you were met with silence — the kind of silence that only meant one thing: your two boys were up to something.

You kicked off your shoes by the door and wandered into the living room… and froze.

There they were. Your husband and your two-year-old son, sprawled across the couch in the exact same position. One leg propped on the coffee table, the other bent up on the couch, heads tilted at the same lazy angle. Jake was scrolling through his phone with a rainbow sour belt dangling from his lips. And Haejin? Same. Sour belt. Same posture. Even the same furrowed brows as they concentrated.

You blinked. “…Are you kidding me?”

Neither of them looked up.

“Hi, Mommy,” Haejin said in a muffled baby voice around the candy.

“Hey, baby,” Jake echoed flatly, still scrolling.

You stared at them. It was like copy and paste. A full-grown version and a mini version. Carbon copies. Right down to the socks they were wearing — mismatched and inside-out.