I was left with my zabi jib rask postat gaze on the velvet box. It was small, cheerful in color, with its blunted edges, as if it had been kept in a drawer for many years. My father was holding her in the palm of her hand, and her hand was shaking so hard that he almost dropped it.
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“Open it, Emilia,” she said softly. Please, please.
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We took another step back.
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I don’t want to open anything. I want to get out of here.
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For the first time, I saw something I had never noticed on my father’s face before. There was no anger and no impatience. It was a sadness so deep that it seemed to have aged him ten years in a single instant.
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“Please listen to me for two minutes,” he said. After that, if you want to leave, I’ll take you home right now.
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I took the phone out of my pocket and held it tight in my hand. I wasn’t going to let him get back to get back. I looked at the path I had come on, trying to remember my way back.
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“Speak from there,” I said. And don’t get close to me.
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My father agreed and sat on the old bench. He opened the box slowly, then turned it towards me.
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There was no engagement ring inside.
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It was a small, gold medallion, heart-shaped.
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On his surface were engraved two initials: E and A.
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What is this? I asked.
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Dad passed his finger over the locket.
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It belonged to your mother.
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I felt a cold shiver.
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My mother is home.
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He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
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“Dammar is the woman who raised you, Emilia. And he loves you more than anything in the world. But it’s not the woman who brought you into the world.
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I felt the ground running from under my feet.
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I went to the woods with my dad. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and said, “We are finally alone
