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Trembling, I took my son’s hand and left.
A car door opened. An old man with white hair, dressed in a black suit, got out. His eyes were full of tears.
He looked at me for a long time, then, before I could say a word, he knelt down in the mud.
I froze.
— Please, get up! What are you doing?
He took my hand, his voice trembling:
“Ten years… Ten years I’ve been looking for you and my grandson.”
The whole village froze.
— My…grandson? I whispered, my voice breaking.
He pulled out an old photo — the face of the man I had loved.
It was him. Exactly the same.
The tears flowed uncontrollably.
The old man then told me: the day I announced my pregnancy, his son was overjoyed and rushed to get his parents’ blessing and prepare for the wedding.
But on the way back… he had a car accident.
And he died that day.
For ten years, his father had relentlessly searched for me.
It was only by consulting old hospital records that he found my name.
He had traveled through several provinces before stumbling upon our house.
The truth that made the whole village cry
The old man turned towards the cars.
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