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Was she good to you?”
A sad smile crossed my face.
“Yes. Her name was Margaret. We lived 35 wonderful years together before I lost her.”
Evelyn shook my hand.
“I’m glad you weren’t alone all this time.”
I lowered my gaze to our clasped hands.
“And I’m sorry you were.”
She shook her head gently.
“I wasn’t alone.”
At that moment, I didn’t understand what she meant.
I would soon understand.
For a moment, we sat together, hand in hand, as if those 60 years had been nothing but a bad dream.
So I did what I had traveled 1900 kilometers to do.
I slowly knelt down.
“Evelyn,” I whispered, handing her the ring, “I’ve lost sixty years. I don’t want to lose a single one. Will you marry me?”
For a second, she simply stared at me.
Then tears welled up in her eyes.
“I recognized your gaze immediately,” she said softly.
I smiled through my tears.
But before I could even catch my breath, Evelyn squeezed my hand and whispered something that chilled me to the bone.
“I need to tell you something before I answer.”
My smile faded.
Silence fell in the room.
I had no idea that his words would change my life.
I remained on my knees longer than I would have liked, unable to move.
Evelyn looked over my shoulder, towards the window. Her thumb trembled against my hand.
The nursing home staff quietly slipped away, leaving us alone. Jake followed them down the corridor.
Soon, we were alone, facing the truth she had carried within her for sixty years.
“Arthur,” she said softly, “the misunderstanding wasn’t what you thought it was.”
I felt a tightness in my chest.
At the time, we had separated because Evelyn had suddenly distanced herself.
She had said she had to leave the city and start her life over somewhere else.
I was then finishing my studies and preparing to enter law school.
For all those years, I had believed that she had chosen someone else.
I received a letter saying that she never wanted to see me again.
It was cruel, cold, and final.
“I thought you had left me,” I confessed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I thought I was doing what was best for you.”
I stared at her.
“You were top of your class,” she continued. “You were going to law school. I couldn’t steal your future.”
My heart sank.
“Nothing would have made me leave you. Not law school. Nothing at all.”
Her eyes closed for a moment.
“I realized it too late.”
She swallowed with difficulty.
“I wrote to you every week for two months after I left.”
I was speechless.
“No,” I murmured. “I never received them.”
“I know that now.”
She took a trembling breath.
“Years later, my aunt finally confided in me what had happened.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“My father intercepted all the letters before they reached you.”
I remained frozen.
“He thought he was protecting your future. He thought I was going to ruin your chances.”
The room began to rotate.
“All these letters…”
Evelyn nodded.
“You’ve never had the chance to read them.”
Carla discreetly brought in a chair and I collapsed into it.
My legs gave way.
Evelyn reached into her vest pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
The edges were worn by time.
“I kept a copy.”
I carefully unfolded it.
The writing was undoubtedly his.
“Arthur, I don’t know why you’re not answering. I’m scared and ashamed, but I still love you. Please come if there’s even a trace of you left who remembers us.”
I was breathless.
Then Evelyn looked me straight in the eyes.
“I was pregnant.”
Those words struck me so hard that everything became blurry.
“Our child?” I whispered.
She nodded.
“A boy.”
For a moment, everything around me disappeared.
For decades, I had dreamed of having a son.
My wife and I wanted children.
But that never happened.
I have carried this silent sadness almost all my life.
And now Evelyn was telling me that at some point, I had become a father without even knowing it.
“What happened?” I asked.
Tears welled up in her eyes.
“After Peter was born, I never remarried.”
I stared at her.
She gave a faint smile.
“I almost did it once or twice. But I was never really there.”
She lowered her eyes to the letter.
“Raising Peter has become my whole world.”