Liora couldn't feel her legs as she stared across the street. The suited man turned his head slightly, revealing enough of his face to confirm the truth her mind tried to deny.
"Dad?" she whispered again, stunned.
Reyan stood beside her now, following her gaze. "That's your father?"
Liora didn't answer. She grabbed her phone with trembling hands and stepped away from the café table, dialing home.
It rang twice before her mother picked up, voice cheery. "Liora, sweetheart! How's your day—"
"Mom," Liora cut in, her voice shaky. "Why didn't you tell me Dad was coming back?"
There was a pause. "Oh! Did I forget to mention? Silly me—I thought I told you this morning. He just returned from a business trip abroad. Got in today. He said he'd surprise you if you happened to be out."
Liora exhaled sharply, clutching her phone tighter. "You really forgot?"
"I'm sorry, dear. Everything's been so hectic lately."
"Yeah… okay. We'll be back soon."
She hung up and turned to Reyan, whose brow was creased with concern.
"My dad just got back," she said. "He's... not usually around."
Reyan nodded slowly. "Will it be okay if I come?"
She met his eyes, searching. "You're part of this now, Reyan. Whatever's coming... you should see it too."
They returned home in a quiet taxi ride, the air thick with unspoken thoughts. Liora's fingers fidgeted in her lap, and Reyan watched the buildings pass like ghosts. When they arrived, the familiar gate of her childhood home stood open.
Inside, the scent of simmering soup wafted through the hall.
Her father was standing by the dining table, casually setting down a folded newspaper. His eyes were sharp, intelligent, warm.
"Liora!" he said, his deep voice like a nostalgic song. "There you are."
She stepped into his arms, surprised by the tightness of his hug. "It's been so long," she mumbled into his coat.
He pulled back and smiled. "I missed you. And—" His eyes moved to Reyan, curious. "This must be the boy your mother mentioned."
Reyan stepped forward. "I'm Reyan. Nice to meet you, sir."
Liora's father extended a firm hand. "Likewise, Reyan. I hear you've been staying here a while."
Liora and Reyan exchanged a glance.
Dinner was a warm, quiet affair. The clink of cutlery and soft laughter filled the space, though underneath it all, Reyan sensed something heavier lingering. He noticed how Liora's mom stole glances at her husband, as if waiting for a signal. And how her father occasionally looked at Reyan—not unkindly, but with something unreadable in his gaze.
After dinner, they gathered in the living room. The clock ticked past 9 p.m.
Liora leaned against the arm of the sofa while Reyan sat beside her, his tea forgotten in his hand.
"I want to tell you something," Liora said, voice tentative. "About Reyan."
Her father raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
She explained it all—how Reyan had fainted, how the memories began surfacing, how their mothers had known each other in the past. Reyan stayed quiet through most of it, his gaze fixed on the floor.
When she finished, silence followed.
Then, her father stood.
"I wasn't sure when would be the right time," he said slowly, "but... perhaps now is better than never."
He disappeared upstairs. Liora and Reyan exchanged a startled look.
Moments later, he returned holding a wooden box—old, polished, with faint carvings on the lid.
"This box was left with your name, Reyan," he said, placing it gently on the table. "Your parents left it with us years ago, saying we were to give it to you when the time felt right. But... we never got that chance."
Reyan's hands trembled as he lifted the lid.
Inside lay a leather-bound notebook, aged with time, and a silver watch—its glass cracked, its hands frozen at 3:07.
Liora leaned closer as Reyan opened the notebook.
The first page was a letter, written in faded ink.
Dear Reyan,We are sorry. We never wanted you to learn this way, but if you're reading this, then the truth can no longer stay hidden.You are not our child by birth. We took you in as a duty, as a promise we made. But we failed you. We couldn't protect you.Your real father… he wants you dead. If you value your life, never try to seek him. Never look for your origins. Forget us. Forget everything.We loved you, in our own imperfect way.Forgive us.
—The Ones Who Tried
The silence that followed was crushing.
Reyan didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on the letter, his breath shallow.
Liora's father sat back heavily. "I never knew the details. Your mother—your adoptive one—was a friend of my wife. She only said you were in danger. That she needed somewhere safe to send you. So she asked us to hold the box. I respected her wishes, but…"
Reyan's voice cracked. "So they lied to me. All of them."
Liora's heart broke at the tremble in his voice. She reached out, but he stood, stepping back as if the ground beneath him had shifted.
The watch slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a dull clink.
"Reyan—" Liora started.
He shook his head. "I need air."
He turned and walked toward the door, the wind pushing in like a silent scream behind him as he stepped into the night.
Liora stood frozen, her hand still reaching for him, her father and mother watching in stunned silence.
The box remained open on the table. And inside it, beneath the watch and notebook, something else glimmered faintly—
A sealed photograph.