Chapter 5: The Secret in My Mother’s Eyes
I couldn’t hear the guests anymore.
The whispers.
The shocked reactions.
The sound of glasses being placed on tables.
Everything disappeared.
There was only one sentence repeating in my head.
The truth about your birth.
I looked at my mother.
“Mom?””
She didn’t answer.
That scared me more than anything.
Because my mother always answered.
Even when the answer hurt.
Even when the truth was difficult.
She always told me.
At least, I thought she did.
“Mom,” I said again.
She looked at me.
Her eyes were full of regret.
“Daniel…”
I stepped back.
“No.””
The word came out quietly.
But everyone heard it.
“No, don’t say my name like that.””
My father moved closer.
“Son.””
I turned toward him.
“You knew?””
His silence answered before his words did.
My chest tightened.
“You both knew?””
My mother reached for me.
“We were trying to protect you.””
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn’t know what else to do.
“Everyone keeps saying that.””
I looked around the ballroom.
“Protect me from what?””
Nobody spoke.
Then Claire stepped forward.
“I tried to tell you.””
I turned toward her.
“You threatened my mother.””
“No.””
“You lied to me.””
“I was scared.””
“You made me believe she abandoned me.””
Claire’s tears fell.
“I was trying to keep you from finding out this way.””
I stared at her.
“Finding out what?””
She looked at my parents.
Then back at me.
“Your mother isn’t your biological mother.””
The room went completely still.
Even though I had expected something terrible, hearing the words felt impossible.
My mother closed her eyes.
My father looked down.
I felt the world shift.
“No.””
My voice barely existed.
“Daniel…”
“No.””
I looked at my mother.
“Tell me she’s lying.””
My mother couldn’t.
That was the answer.
My knees felt weak.
I grabbed the edge of the nearest chair.
“How long?””
My mother whispered.
“Your whole life.””
I looked at her.
“My whole life?””
She nodded through tears.
“You were three months old when I held you for the first time.””
The ballroom disappeared.
Suddenly I wasn’t a groom anymore.
I was a child.
A baby.
A person who had never known his own beginning.
“Why?””
My mother cried.
“Because your birth mother couldn’t keep you.””
I swallowed.
“Who was she?””
My father answered.
“Someone we knew.””
I looked at him.
“Who?””
He hesitated.
That hesitation destroyed me.
“Who?””
My father looked toward Ethan.
My brother stepped forward.
“Daniel…”
“Who?””
Ethan’s voice was quiet.
“Claire’s aunt.””
The room exploded.
I looked at Claire.
She looked just as shocked as everyone else.
“My aunt?””
Ethan nodded.
“She disappeared after giving birth.””
I shook my head.
“No.””
Claire stepped back.
“I didn’t know.””
My father spoke.
“That’s why she was trying to stop the truth from coming out.””
I looked at Claire.
“Because you knew?””
“No.””
Her voice broke.
“I swear I didn’t know.””
But something about her expression bothered me.
Not guilt.
Something else.
Pain.
Real pain.
“Then why did you do all of this?””
Claire looked down.
“I found out something about my aunt.””
Everyone waited.
“She didn’t abandon you.””
My heart stopped.
“What?””
Claire wiped her tears.
“She was told you were dead.””
The room went silent.
My mother gasped.
“No…”
Claire looked at her.
“You knew.””
My mother shook her head.
“I didn’t know.””
“Yes, you did.””
Claire’s voice became sharper.
“You knew someone lied about Daniel’s birth.””
My mother’s face collapsed.
“I knew there were things I didn’t understand.””
“But you kept him.””
My mother stepped forward.
“I loved him.””
Claire’s expression softened.
For a moment, everyone saw the conflict inside her.
Because maybe this wasn’t only about jealousy.
Maybe it was about something buried for decades.
I looked at my mother.
“Who is my real mother?””
She opened her mouth.
Then stopped.
A phone suddenly rang.
Everyone turned.
The sound came from my father’s jacket.
He pulled it out.
His face changed when he saw the screen.
“Who is it?”” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
May you like
Because the caller ID was a name none of us expected.
A name that belonged to someone who had been missing for thirty years.
