The one who told her about her mother when she was a little girl, using the things she discovered from photos and notebooks.
One afternoon, almost a year later, Ilinca asked him:
Can I tell you Grandpa?
Grigore couldn’t answer immediately.
The little girl is scared.
If you don’t want…
He bends up and hugs her.
I’ve been waiting for this word longer than you can imagine.
Ana’s medallion went to Ilinca.
On his back there was a scratch that Grigore recognized.
He had accidentally done it with a key, more than three decades before, even before he offered it to Elena.
A small object had passed from him to the woman he loved.
From Elena to Ana.
And from Ana to Ilinca.
Three generations of a truth that no one had the courage to say in time.
On the day of the funeral, people had wondered why Father Gregory had frozen when he had looked in the coffin.
