CHAPTER 2
The Secret My Father Took to His Grave
The airport suddenly felt too small.
Too bright.
Too loud.
I stared at the man in the black coat.
“What did you just say?”
He didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at the old woman in the wheelchair.
Tears were running down her cheeks.
“My God…” she whispered. “It really is him.”
Meena stepped in front of her mother.
“Raj, don't do this.”
So the man's name was Raj.
And judging by the look on his face, he knew far more than I did.
Raj ignored Meena.
He kept staring at me.
“You look exactly like Daniel.”
I swallowed hard.
“That's my father's name.”
The old woman covered her mouth and began crying.
Priya looked between all of us, completely confused.
“What is happening?” she asked.
No one answered.
I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears.
For thirty-three years, I had lived with one truth:
I had no grandparents.
No uncles.
No cousins.
My father had supposedly grown up alone.
At least, that's what my mother had always said.
Now an old woman was crying because she believed I was her grandson.
This had to be some kind of mistake.
“Who are you?” I asked Raj.
He took a slow breath.
“My name is Raj Anand.”
Anand.
The same last name as Priya.
He looked toward the old woman.
“This is my mother.”
Then he pointed toward himself.
“Which means… if Daniel Reyes was your father…”
He couldn't finish the sentence.
Because I already knew.
I looked at the old woman.
“No.”
She smiled through her tears.
“Yes.”
“No… that's impossible.”
“Nothing is impossible, Nolan.”
Hearing my name from her lips felt strange.
As though she'd been saying it for years.
Meena's face turned hard.
“This conversation is over.”
She grabbed the wheelchair.
But the old woman held the wheels firmly.
“No.”
“Mother…”
“No!”
Everyone nearby turned to stare.
The old woman pointed at me.
“I have waited twenty-seven years for this moment.”
Twenty-seven years.
I was twenty-seven when my father disappeared.
No…
I was six.
Twenty-seven years ago was when my father vanished.
A strange chill crept over me.
The old woman looked at me carefully.
“You're thirty-three now, aren't you?”
I froze.
“How do you know my age?”
She smiled sadly.
“Because I counted every birthday.”
The air left my lungs.
This woman had never met me.
How could she know?
Unless…
No.
Impossible.
“Someone told you about me.”
She shook her head.
“Your father did.”
I couldn't breathe.
My father disappeared twenty-seven years ago.
How could he tell her anything?
“You're lying.”
The words came out harsher than I intended.
But I didn't care.
I felt like the floor was moving beneath me.
The old woman didn't get angry.
Instead, she looked heartbroken.
“He promised he would bring you to me one day.”
I stepped back.
“No.”
“He wrote letters.”
“No.”
“He sent photographs.”
“No!”
People nearby jumped.
Even Priya looked startled.
I realized I was shaking.
Because there was only one explanation.
If this woman was telling the truth…
then my entire childhood had been a lie.
Meena suddenly stepped forward.
“Enough.”
She looked directly at me.
“You need to leave.”
I stared at her.
“Did my father know your family?”
“Yes.”
“Did he have a mother?”
Silence.
“Answer me.”
The old woman whispered softly.
“I am his mother.”
The words hit me like a train.
I felt my knees weaken.
I had spent twenty-seven years missing my father.
Wondering where he went.
Wondering why he left.
Wondering if he was alive.
And now I was discovering I knew absolutely nothing about him.
Priya looked pale.
“Nolan…”
I couldn't even look at her.
Because suddenly, I didn't know who anyone was.
Raj stepped closer.
“There are things you don't know.”
“Then tell me!”
He hesitated.
Meena glared at him.
“Raj, don't.”
But he ignored her.
He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an old leather wallet.
Inside was another photograph.
He handed it to me.
I nearly dropped it.
The picture showed my father.
Younger.
Smiling.
Holding a baby.
Me.
I knew it was me because I still had that blue blanket.
My mother had kept it in a box.
I looked at the date.
August 18.
Twenty-seven years ago.
The photograph had been taken two weeks before my father disappeared.
I looked up.
“Where did you get this?”
Raj's face became serious.
“Your father mailed it to us.”
Everything inside me stopped.
No.
That couldn't be.
Because my mother always said he vanished without warning.
Without contacting anyone.
Without leaving anything behind.
But if he mailed this photo…
then he had been in contact with this family.
And if that was true…
what else had my mother lied about?
The old woman reached into her purse again.
This time, she pulled out an envelope.
The paper was old and worn.
Across the front, in faded handwriting, was a name.
For My Son's Child.
I stared at it.
Then my breath caught.
Because I recognized the handwriting.
I had seen it my entire childhood.
On birthday cards.
On grocery notes.
On every Christmas tag.
It belonged to my father.
The old woman held the envelope toward me.
“He left this for you.”
I couldn't move.
My hands felt numb.
“When?” I whispered.
Her answer changed everything.
“The night before he disappeared.”
Silence.
Then she said six words that turned my entire world upside down.
May you like
“He knew someone was coming for him.”
TO BE CONTINUED… 🔥🔥🔥
