Author's Note: Hey! This is my first fanfiction I've published, and I'm hoping you'll like it. I'm going to stop typing. Just read on, and I hope you enjoy!

Prologue

"She looks like you. They both do," he whispered quietly.

She looked inside the nursery to two little baby girls wrapped in pink blankets.

"Do you want to keep her?"

She looked away, staring at the sweater she was wearing. It had a snag. "No." She couldn't look him in the eye. She couldn't look at the baby girls, either. It hurt too much.

"Spencer…are you sure?"

Spencer looked down at the hospital's tile floor. The hardest part was…she didn't know. But she did know that she couldn't provide the best life for them. Now that she was cut off from her family financially…she was only just out of high school. She was nowhere ready to start raising not just one, but two children. Even though she loved their father…she knew she couldn't be that selfish.

With a heavy heart, she replied, "Yes."

He looked at his daughters with his blue eyes. "Are you going to name them before they're adopted?"

He was answered with silence. "Spencer?"

"I can't think of any." She sighed as she put her head on the glass separating her and her daughters. She gathered the courage to look at them. She finally came up with one. "Dianna. It means beautiful and divine," Spencer explained.

"I like the name Analeigh. It was my aunt's name," he responded.

Spencer turned away from her daughters. "Toby…I know you must hate me right now. But we can't give them everything they need…they'll be better off this way, as much as it hurts."

Toby looked at her kindly with his aquamarine-blue eyes. "I could never hate you. And I understand…but I don't want to regret it later on. I don't want you to, either," he said, taking her hand.

She turned back to the nursery again. She let go of his hand and walked away. Toby, however, remained. He took a final look at their daughters, who, at this point, seemed like the only things that they would ever call theirs.

Chapter One

The slim, athletic beauty was sitting despondently, watching people in the school courtyard. She was waiting for her friend, Alison. All of a sudden, Alison, a fiery redhead with bright green eyes, sat down.

"Ava! You're coming over today, right?" Alison enquired.

"Anything to escape my screwed up family," she replied.

"Come on, Dianna. Don't be that way," Alison replied, with Dianna wincing in disgust at the use of her real name. She hated the name Dianna. It seemed to promise a life of success and wealth; it was champagne and pearls and cashmere in a world of box wine, coal, and burlap. It was something extravagant, when Dianna obviously wasn't.

People tended to argue on that last statement. People she met often claimed she was something special, and mostly due to her eyes.

Dianna Ava Cavanaugh had some of the prettiest eyes ever known to mankind; they were a rich, deep brown, but there were flecks of sapphire, cobalt, and aquamarine. Even her foster parents, who hated her, said they were her one redeeming physical quality, calling her an "ugly duckling". Despite that, many people thought she was beautiful, with long, wavy chestnut hair and her gorgeous, breathtakingly elegant beauty.

Somewhere, not even fifty miles away, in Rosewood, Pennsylvania, one Miss Analeigh Maria Rose was typing away on Apple's newest iPhone. She snapped her pink bubblegum without a single care in the world. She had "the life"; summers on the beach, walks along the Seine, Pradas in every single color. What more could she want?

Nothing, thought Analeigh. This is who I am; I don't want to be anybody else. Nobody is going to take this away from me. Because of Analeigh Rose wanted something, she got it, without a single question asked. Analeigh got what she wanted.

There was always a small part of Analeigh which longed for answers, though. But Analeigh wasn't stupid—she knew that answers came at a price. Once something as big as the answer Analeigh had wanted was revealed, there was no way things could ever be the same again.

In turn, Analeigh wondered and wondered, suffering at the prospect of being oblivious to all the answers when they could be lurking right before her.

She had known that she was adopted long before she actually realized the mystery that word entailed. When she actually realized how she was separated from her birth parents at such an early age, she grew very curious; she never actually followed through on her curiosity, though. She was too scared to find the truth—sometimes you are better off with a good lie, even if that lie could be your entire life.

She put her phone down. With a loud sigh, she rolled over on her bed to look up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Could this day get any more boring?

All of a sudden, the doorbell rang. She ran downstairs to answer it. She found it to be her friend Olivia. Olivia, making herself at home immediately, threw her jacket on the loveseat in Analeigh's living room and rushed to her room. She sat on the bed. Analeigh followed after her, her socks proving the floors to be very slippery. Olivia stared at her.

"What?" asked Analeigh.

"Show me what you're wearing to this birthday party extravaganza of yours next week. I've heard it's gorgeous and completely Analeigh," Olivia said eagerly.

Analeigh smiled. In the back of her closet, in a gray dress bag, was an aquamarine sequined dress. Olivia's jaw dropped.

"That'll look perfect on you. It'll bring out the blue in your eyes…" Olivia trailed off, touching the dress. Analeigh rolled her eyes at the saying which was now clichéd to her.

She said, "That's what everyone says."

"It's true! Whoever gave you those blue eyes should be considered a hero in my book. The only person who has more beautiful eyes than you do is Tammin Sursok. She has emeralds for eyes," Olivia added. Analeigh nodded, not offended by any of that. "So have you continued to look for your parents? It's been seventeen years," Olivia reminded her.

Analeigh nodded. She remembered how in her adoption contract, her parents made her biological parents agree not to look for Analeigh for at least 17 years. With her 17th birthday soon approaching, Analeigh knew she was not shielded for much longer. Some part of her wished for her parents to start looking for her, but Analeigh was pretty sure that it wouldn't happen.

"Hello? Earth to Analeigh. Are you there?" Olivia questioned, bringing Analeigh out of her thoughts.

"Sorry." Analeigh paused for a moment. "I don't know. I want to know, but I don't want to get hurt." She thought for another minute. "I wonder if my mom is pretty…"

Suddenly, it looked as though Olivia had an epiphany. "I have an idea. Where's your laptop?"

Confused, Analeigh pointed to her desk. A pink MacBook was sitting there. Olivia picked it up and brought it to the bed. Analeigh leaned over her shoulder to see what she was typing into the search engine. A second later, a website header for an adoption website popped up.

"What are you doing?"

Olivia responded with silence. Then, she spoke. "The choice is yours."

Analeigh looked at the screen, frightened. Reluctantly, she began answering the questions. Breaching the agreement (since she was only 17), she waited anxiously, digging her fingernails into her flesh. Her heart stopped for a moment, nervous about what the results would hold. Even if it was just for a mere moment, the suspense was killing her. The website loaded, and there were a few matches, about twelve to be exact. One of them was a Spencer Hastings.

"Which one do you think it is?" Olivia asked.

Analeigh shook her head. "I don't know."

And, not even a mile away, in the other side of Rosewood, sat Spencer Hastings. Hanna, her high school friend, sat across from her. They were roommates. Both were typing away: Hanna going online shopping (her guilty pleasure), Spencer preparing a lesson plan. She had just gotten a job teaching at Rosewood High School. She was the new French teacher.

"So…what's your whole stance on the whole leather versus pleather debacle? Does saving a cow's ass really outweigh the look and feel of real leather?" Hanna questioned, looking up from the computer screen. Spencer looked up and gave her that look; the one which tells you to stop talking, that was a stupid question.

"Hanna. Are you really asking me this?"

"I needed a second opinion! I need to know for my store!" she protested.

After graduating from Parsons School of Design in NYC with honors in History of Polka Dots, Hanna had moved back to Rosewood. She was setting up her own boutique. It would be a quaint, charming little thing in Rosewood Town, right in the center of all the drama. Hanna was debating what to call it, not knowing whether paying homage to Alison was distasteful. She wanted to name the store, Ali's Secrets. It was secretive and intriguing, but not stupid and clichéd. The store was opening in just a week, and Hanna was giddy like a schoolgirl.

"Pleather. The last thing you want is PETA shoving you with a thousand lawsuits because you dared to order shoes with the tiniest bit of cow on it."

Hanna nodded. She continued typing. Spencer soon realized what date was approaching. Soon enough, it would be October 16th. This meant that 17 years ago, she had given birth to two daughters, whom she had no clue in the world where they could possibly be. She and Toby had signed an adoption contract for one of their daughters which made them keep quiet until their 17th birthday. Time was up.

Spencer's stomach did a tiny flip-flop and she wondered whether her daughters would even want to have anything to do with her. It sure felt as though Toby didn't. A mere two years later, he had left. She couldn't remember exactly how everything went—she drowned her own woes in the liquid courage otherwise known as alcohol. The entire three years between 18 and 21 were a haze. To think of it, Spencer couldn't even remember how she managed to get her hands on the alcohol.

Sure enough, after Toby had left and Hanna came back from New York, Hanna encouraged her to stop, as the alcohol would just ruin her. And for 14 years, she had been sober, not even wanting to touch the drink, as she had come to accumulate quite a distaste for it.

"But you're helping me on opening day, right? I need you, Spence. You and your anal organizing ways. I can't do it without you," Hanna claimed, breaking Spencer out of her recollection. Spencer nodded.

"Can't imagine being anywhere else."

And that was my fanfic! And...I don't know what to say anymore. More to come next week! Please review! -Kayson