It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts, but her face seemed so familiar, as if I had dreamed of it for years. She had those penetrating green eyes that you can’t forget. And yet, the name Julia meant nothing to me.
— Do you know… my mom? — Miranda asked, looking from me to her.
The woman seemed to tremble. She took a step towards me and said in a low voice:
— Your name is Andrei, isn’t it?
I nodded, confused. Then she pulled out her wallet. And there, in plain sight, was an old photograph — of me, with a young face, from college. It was taken one summer, at a camp, and I had forgotten that image existed.
— Who are you? — I asked again, this time with a broken voice.
— We met eleven years ago, in Costinești, — she began. — You were there with your friends. I… was with a friend. We danced all night on that wooden terrace by the beach. I told you I was from Bucharest. You told me you were about to leave for abroad.
I suddenly went back in thought. I recalled those summer nights, the faces of friends, laughter, dancing, cold beer bottles. And yes… she was there. Julia. One evening. One kiss. A hasty departure in the morning, without addresses, without promises.
— Why didn’t you ever tell me? — I whispered.
— Because I didn’t know either, — she replied. — I found out I was pregnant only after a few months. I tried to look for you, but I didn’t know your full name or the exact city. I kept this photo… the only memory.
I looked at Miranda, who was now standing between us, playing with her shoelaces.
— But… how did she tell you it was me?
— I always talked to her about that special man, — she smiled through tears. — And she saw the photo and memorized it.
I sat down on the couch, my head in my hands. All these years, I had known nothing. All these years, a little girl had been growing up, carrying my blood.
— What are you doing now? — Julia asked me, her voice trembling.
I looked up. A ray of sunlight had entered through the window and was falling directly on Miranda, who was looking at me curiously.
— Now… I want to recover what I lost. If you let me, — I said.
Julia sighed deeply. Then she smiled sadly:
— It will take time. But she needs you. And maybe… I do too.
And then, in that little seaside town, on an ordinary morning, my life began anew. With a little girl who called me “sir,” but who would come to call me “daddy.”
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
