The clock struck twelve. The midday sun filtered through the multicolored glass windows, casting fractured beams of light across the cold marble floor. Every step Samuel took sent echoes rippling through the vast space, bouncing off the towering pillars.
Memories. Voices. Sounds. They crashed into him all at once. Events he didn’t even recall living flickered through his mind like fragments of a dream.
He had never been in this grand church. Or so he thought.
But something felt wrong. Too familiar.
Why did this place feel so familiar? The thought unsettled him. He wanted to leave, to run from whatever was clawing its way to the surface of his mind. How could someone forget a place like this? It wasn’t just déjà vu. It was deeper. Sharper. But he knew he couldn’t turn back now. He had to find out what his parents had been hiding, why, for the past twenty-three years, they had sent money to this church every single month.
Then, there it was.
The door that held the answers.
It led to the church’s office. Slowly, Samuel placed his fist against the door and knocked three times. No answer. He glanced left, then right, then back again. His instincts screamed at him to be careful, but for once, he silenced them. With shaking hands, he gripped the doorknob, twisted it, and pushed.
He didn’t know it yet, but his decision to enter this room would change his life forever.
Inside, the office was small and overflowing with dust-covered papers, forgotten records, and the weight of untold stories. A single lamp cast long shadows over a wide wooden desk at the center of the room. Samuel rushed forward, yanking open drawers, rifling through stacks of documents. Useless. All of them. His pulse quickened, trying to find anything that could hold a clue. Tearing through anything and everything that could lead to a clue, leaving the room in total disorder.
He was running out of time.
Then—
Samuel stopped.
He looked up.
And he saw her.
And she saw him.
Standing in front of him was his mother.
My mother?
Samuel froze, his breath caught in his throat. His mind spun, drowning in more questions. None of which had answers. The room felt smaller. Tighter.
A nauseating silence stretched between them. Until finally, she spoke.
“Someone called to tell me you were here,” she said. Her voice was calm, but her hands trembled. “You finally deserve to know the truth.”
They sat.
From her bag, she pulled out a letter. A very old letter, sealed with a crimson red stamp.
Though her entire body shook, she handed it to him.
“This will explain everything.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “I’m sorry, Samuel.”
She stood. Her heels clicked against the floor, sharp and cold. Samuel’s wide eyes followed her, watching as she disappeared through the doorway.
The letter felt unbearably heavy in his hands. His pulse pounded in his ears as he broke the seal. Slowly at first, then faster, his eyes scanned the words.
Suddenly, he stopped.
The paper slipped from his fingers, floating down like the last leaf of autumn.
For twenty-three years, his parents had paid the church to keep this secret buried.
Every memory, every part of his identity, built on a lie.
The truth slammed into him. He wasn’t who he thought, shattering everything he thought he knew.
His life was not his own.
He had never been their son.
The overwhelming thought clouded his mind: Who really was he?