I looked at Evelyn.
“Who is Maya?”
Evelyn’s voice broke.
“Emily.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“She was raised under another name.”
“Why?”
“Because the people who took her believed they could erase her identity.”
“Who were they?”
Evelyn looked at Dad.
Then at me.
“The people responsible are gone.”
“What does that mean?”
“They died years ago.”
I felt tears running down my face.
“Then where is she?”
Evelyn smiled sadly.
“She doesn’t know she’s Emily.”
I closed my eyes.
Thirteen years.
Thirteen years of grief.
Thirteen years of wondering what my daughter might have become.
Thirteen years of believing she was gone.
And somewhere in the world, she had been alive.
Growing up.
Laughing.
Learning to walk.
Going to school.
Celebrating birthdays.
Living a life that belonged to someone else.
“Does she know about me?”
“No.”
“Does she know Lily?”
“No.”
“Does she know she has a sister?”
Evelyn shook her head.
I covered my mouth.
Then I heard footsteps behind me.
Slow footsteps.
Familiar footsteps.
I turned around.
Carl stood at the end of the platform.
Older.
Thinner.
His hair almost completely gray.
But his eyes were the same.
For thirteen years, I’d imagined what I would say if I ever saw him again.
I’d imagined screaming.
Hitting him.
Demanding answers.
Instead, I simply stared at him.
He looked at me.
Then his eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry.”
That was all he said.
Two words.
But they carried thirteen years of pain.
I walked toward him.
“You let me hate you.”
“I know.”
“You let me believe you abandoned Lily.”
“I know.”
“You let me bury our daughter.”
His face crumpled.
“I know.”
I hit his chest with both hands.
Once.
Twice.
Then I collapsed against him.
And for the first time since Emily died, I cried the way I’d wanted to cry all those years ago.
Carl held me.
He was crying too.
“I tried to come back,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“I wanted to.”
“I know.”
“I just didn’t know how to bring her home.”
We stood there for a long time.
Then Carl said:
“She wants to meet you.”
I pulled away.
“What?”
He nodded.
“She knows some of the truth now.”
My heart began pounding.
“When?”
“Today.”
I turned toward the station entrance.
And then I saw her.
A young woman standing several yards away.
She was holding a small backpack.
She looked nervous.
Afraid.
Confused.
But the moment our eyes met, something inside me recognized her.
