I Thought I Knew My Son — Until His Secret Broke Me

“We tried to carve a star. It was difficult, but he didn’t give up.”

My hands trembled as I turned the pages.

They weren’t just drawings.

They were a language.

My son’s voice.

Which I had never heard of.

There, between the pages, I found a photo.
An old photo.

Elena, young, smiling.

And next to her, a man.

A man I recognized immediately.

My father.

A shiver ran down my spine.

What was a photo of Elena with my father doing in Mateo’s diary?

The story became more complicated than I could have imagined.

Elena was watching me, her face a mask of worry.

“That diary… is our secret, Mr. Daniel. Mateo’s and mine.”

“And my father? What does my father have to do with all this?”

She sighed.

A tear rolled down her cheek.

“His father was the one who taught me to carve. And he was the one who asked me to take care of Mateo… in a special way.”