— His mother?
— No.
— He said she died when he was a child.
— That’s what he thought for most of his life.
I opened the metal box.
Inside were documents, photographs and a small key.
At the very bottom there was another envelope.
This time it was written:
„Emily.”
I looked at my daughter.
— Why is there a letter for her here?
My father took the envelope from me.
“Because your husband wanted Emily to know the truth about her family when she was old enough.”
– What truth?
Father looked at me.
— Emily is not the only child in this story.
My heart stopped.
— Co?
Father pointed to an old photo.
— The woman you saw in the photo had a daughter.
— I?
— This daughter was born on the same day as Emily.
I didn’t understand.
And then I saw the document.
Birth certificate.
Two children’s names.
She got it.
Same place.
But different mothers’ surnames.
I looked at my father.
– What does it mean?
He didn’t answer.
Emily started crying.
— Grandpa, tell her.
Father closed his eyes.
— Your husband found out that there was a mistake at the hospital.
I felt the world stop around me.
— Are you saying that…
— No.
— Emily…
I looked at my daughter.
I couldn’t get the words out.
The father continued:
— For eight years, your husband has been trying to find out what really happened that night.
— And the other girl?
— She was raised by another family.
– Where is?
Father looked at me.
—That’s why Emily came to see me every night.
– Why?
