That answer only increased my confusion.
We went into the house.
Everything remained practically the same.
The old clock in the living room.
Family photographs.
The wooden table where we had dined so many times.
All that was missing were my photographs.
They had disappeared.
My mother made coffee while no one could find the right words.
Finally, it was I who spoke.
—Twenty years have passed.
My father lowered his gaze.
—We know.
—Why did they never try to find me?
No one answered.
The young woman watched the conversation without understanding anything at all.
“Who are you?” I asked gently.
She smiled.
—My name is Sofia.
Then he added something that surprised me again.
—My grandparents talk a lot about a daughter who left many years ago… but they never mention her name.
I looked at my parents.
-Because?
My mother started to cry.
—Because it was the biggest mistake of our lives.
