Truths

Katrina, visibly surprised by the question, remained silent for a moment. Then, she looked at Miria and softly asked,

"Why this sudden interest in your father?"

Miria, though caught off guard, kept her composure. She took a deep breath before answering,

"Yesterday, at the mall, I saw a family… They seemed so happy. I don't know why, but it touched me. I thought about us… and about him. I realized I wanted to know who he was, at least a little."

Katrina stared at her daughter for a long time, hesitating to respond. Sensing her mother's reluctance, Miria reached out and gently held Katrina's hand.

"Please, Mom, tell me about him," she insisted. "Why did he leave? I want to understand… Every child has at least one memory, one detail about their father. But me… I have nothing."

Miria's eyes lowered, clouded by deep sadness. Moved by her daughter's words, Katrina placed her other hand over Miria's and replied gently,

"I'm sorry, my love, but it's impossible. Talking about him… could put you in danger. All I can tell you is that your father was a good man. A loving father. Circumstances forced him to leave… to protect us."

Miria looked up, her eyes full of questions.

"Protect us from what, Mom? What was so dangerous?"

Katrina shook her head, her face heavy with sorrow.

"I can't tell you more. It's better this way, trust me."

"But Mom, I want to know!" Miria protested.

Katrina's voice grew firm, almost sharp.

"That's enough, Miria."

Hurt, Miria withdrew her hands, stood up abruptly, and left the table in anger. Katrina tried to stop her.

"Miria, come back!"

But her daughter ignored her, slamming the door to her room behind her. Katrina followed and knocked softly on the door.

"Miria, open the door… I know you're upset, but please listen to me…"

A heavy silence was her only reply. After several unsuccessful attempts, Katrina sighed and walked to her own room, her heart heavy.

On the other side of the door, Miria cried, her sobs muffled by her pillow. She felt helpless, trapped in a puzzle with no pieces to fit. Slowly, she sat up, wiped her tears, and murmured,

"If Mom refuses to help me… I'll find the answers myself."

Katrina, true to her routine, woke up early the next morning. Despite the tension of the previous evening, she busied herself with her daily chores. Once the cleaning was done, she carefully prepared breakfast, secretly hoping Miria would join her at the table.

After setting the table, Katrina walked to Miria's door and knocked softly.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I made breakfast. I hope you'll come eat with me."

She waited for a response, but none came. After a few moments, she placed her hand on the door, looking defeated.

"Miria… I know you're angry. And I understand… But please know that everything I do is to protect you. I already lost your father because of this. I can't lose you too."

A heavy silence followed her words. Katrina felt a tear roll down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, took a deep breath, and returned to the kitchen.

She sat alone at the table, facing the breakfast she had carefully prepared. The silence of the house, once comforting, now felt suffocating. Every bite was hard, but she forced herself to finish. When she was done, she cleaned up quickly and got ready to leave for a long-planned event.

Before leaving, she returned one last time to Miria's door.

"Miria, I'm heading out now. I left breakfast on the table if you're hungry."

She paused, hoping for a response. Then, with a trembling voice, she added,

"I know you're upset with me, but one day, you'll understand why I'm doing this. I love you, sweetheart. More than anything in the world."

Once again, only silence replied. Katrina sighed, gently closed the front door, and left.

Miria, who had heard the front door close, waited a few minutes before leaving her room. She made sure her mother was really gone, then headed to the attic, convinced it held the answers she sought. However, the attic door was locked.

"Seriously?" she muttered.

Determined, she called Lyle, the neighbor's daughter, an expert in lockpicking. When Lyle arrived, she frowned.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Your mom's not going to be happy."

Miria shrugged.

"If you had the slightest chance to learn about a part of your life everyone's hiding from you, wouldn't you take it?"

Lyle sighed and pulled out her tools.

"Alright, but if we get caught, you're doing the explaining."

In a few minutes, the lock gave way. The two girls pushed open the door and stepped into the attic, a cluttered and dusty space.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Lyle asked.

"Anything about my father. Photos, letters, documents… anything."

The two girls began searching through the boxes and stacked objects. After an hour of fruitless searching, Lyle, exhausted, leaned against a pile of boxes.

"Miria, I don't think we're going to find anything here."

Miria, undeterred, kept looking. She was about to respond when Lyle suddenly exclaimed,

"Wait. Look at this."