The couple selling her seemed tired and sad, and when I asked the price, they simply told me to take her.

Something in their voices made me pause, but I didn’t ask questions. The next morning, Eve’s face lit up when she opened the gift. She named the doll Rosie and held her close with immediate affection.

But moments later, I heard a faint sound—static, then a small recorded voice saying, “Happy Birthday, Mommy.” Hidden inside the doll was a note written by a child. The joy in the room softened into quiet understanding, and Eve gently suggested the doll might belong to someone else.

The following day, I returned to the flea market. The same couple was there. When I explained what we’d found, the woman—Miriam—realized the truth: