For a moment, silence fell over the dinner table. The quiet clinking of silverware suddenly seemed loud against the backdrop of abrupt tension. Manuel’s father set down his fork, laced his fingers together, and cleared his throat slowly.
His mother looked away, her hand drifting hesitantly to the edge of the tablecloth. Finally, his father spoke. “Manuel, you need to know the truth.” His voice was quiet but held a firmness, like a man who had put off a difficult conversation for too long.
“We’ve wanted to tell you for a long time, but we never knew how,” he continued, avoiding his son’s gaze. “You were adopted.”
The words struck like a thunderbolt. Manuel froze, his palms growing clammy as an icy cold spread through his chest. He tried to say something, but he couldn’t find any words.
His mother, unable to stay silent, added, “We thought we were protecting you… We wanted you to grow up loved and safe, without the shadow of the past.” Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t dare look up.
“You were found as an infant,” his father went on. “And it wasn’t just you. You have a twin brother.”
Manuel lifted his head, staring directly at his father, trying to understand what part of this was real and what part was a nightmare.
“But we couldn’t adopt you both. At the time, we didn’t have the means, or the ability to bend the rules. We did everything we could to give you the life you deserve.”
Every word cut deep into Manuel. He felt a rising tide of bitterness and confusion. “Why did you keep this from me? Why didn’t I know?” His voice shook, but there was an unmistakable edge of accusation in it.
His mother reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away, as if afraid her touch might shatter the last illusions he had about his past.
“We didn’t know much ourselves,” his father said. “The only thing we have is the name of the children’s home we adopted you from. They might be able to tell you more.”
Manuel tried to process what he’d heard, but his thoughts were spinning like a vortex. Childhood memories surfaced one after another. The strange looks from neighbors, the fleeting comments about how he didn’t resemble his parents. It all made sense now.
He leaned back in his chair, trying to compose himself, but a hurricane was raging inside him. “I have to know the truth,” he said quietly, more to himself than to his parents.
His resolve grew with every second. He knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he found out everything. The name of the children’s home was now his starting point on the path to unlocking the mystery of his past.
Manuel drove to the children’s home his parents had named. His heart was pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety. A light drizzle was falling outside, adding to the feeling of gray uncertainty.
When he walked inside, he was met with a rush of warm air that smelled of old paper and dust. The small office, surrounded by children’s drawings and faded photographs on the walls, had an atmosphere thick with memories and past secrets…
