Michael was calling it.
They also did a DNA test.
The result confirmed what the letters had already said.
Michael was my husband’s biological father.
But the thing that surprised me the most was Daniel’s reaction.
One night he said to me:
I thought the truth was going to take my father.
– Robert?
He nodded.
But he can’t. The man who raised me is my father. It’s just that now I know there was someone else who lived the whole life with the consequences of that story.
Michael died almost a year later, not a few months later, as doctors had estimated.
In the last week, Daniel has been standing by his side.
One afternoon, when he thought Michael was sleeping, I heard him say:
I wish I had more time, Dad.
Michael opened his eyes.
Smile. Smile.
Don’t answer it.
There was no need.
