Now I drove my own car, had built a successful company, and could offer my daughter a life I had never imagined. However, deep down, a part of me still hadn’t healed from that wound.
When I arrived at the entrance to the village, everything seemed smaller.
The square where I played as a child was still there. The bakery still had the same wooden sign, and the church continued to mark the hours with its bells.
Some people were looking at me curiously.
It was clear that few could recognize that teenager who had disappeared two decades ago.
I parked in front of the old family home.
The paint was faded, and the garden no longer looked the same. The flowers my mother had so lovingly tended had been replaced by withered bushes. Even so, that place still stirred countless memories.
I took a deep breath before knocking on the door.
