PART 3 — WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO THE BABY
Anna stayed beside my bed for almost an hour before she could tell me the rest.
Maria sat quietly in the corner.
She had heard the story many times.
But this time was different.
This time, she was watching her mother tell it to the woman who had saved her.
I held Anna's hand.
— Tell me everything.
She looked toward the window.
Snow continued to fall.
— After I left your house, I thought I could disappear.
She smiled bitterly.
— I was sixteen. I didn't understand how powerful my father was.
— Who was he?
Anna looked at me.
— His name was Richard Keller.
The name meant nothing to me.
Not yet.
— He owned several businesses. He had money. He knew lawyers, doctors, police officers…
She paused.
— And he believed that everything could be bought.
I listened.
— When he discovered I was pregnant, he didn't ask whether I was okay.
Her voice became bitter.
— He asked me one thing.
— What?
— “Who is the father?”
I remembered the night she had arrived.
I remembered how carefully I had avoided asking the same question.
Anna continued.
— Daniel was the father.
Her expression softened.
— He was twenty-one. He loved me.
— Did you love him?
She smiled sadly.
— More than I knew how to explain.
Then her face changed.
— My father hated him.
— Why?
— Because Daniel was poor.
Anna told me that Daniel had wanted to marry her.
He had planned to take her away.
They had even chosen a small apartment.
But three days before Anna came to my house, Daniel died.
Everyone called it an accident.
A car accident.
A wet road.
A broken guardrail.
But Anna never believed it.
— My father told me to forget him.
She looked at me.
— I couldn't.
I squeezed her hand.
— And your baby?
Anna closed her eyes.
— My father wanted to take him.
— Why?
— Because he said a child born out of disgrace had no place in our family.
I felt anger rise inside me.
— So you ran.
— Yes.
She looked down.
— I ran to you.
I remembered.
The little girl in the snow.
The yellow room.
The baby clothes.
Everything suddenly felt unbearably precious.
— But after the birth, why did you leave?
Anna's face became pale.
— Because my father found me.
I stared at her.
— He came to the hospital?
She nodded.
— The morning after my son was born.
I felt a chill.
— He told me that if I didn't leave immediately, he would hurt you.
I closed my eyes.
Anna continued.
— He had men watching your house.
She took a shaky breath.
— I knew he wasn't bluffing.
— So you left with your baby.
— Yes.
— Where did you go?
Anna looked at Maria.
— To my aunt's house.
But her father found them again.
Anna was forced to move from town to town.
She worked in restaurants.
Cleaned houses.
Sewed clothes.
Anything to keep her child safe.
— And your son?
I asked carefully.
Anna's eyes filled with tears.
— That's where everything changed.
She looked at Maria.
— My father found us.
One night, he came to the house where Anna and her baby were staying.
He didn't take Anna.
He took the baby.
I covered my mouth.
— He stole your child?
Anna nodded.
— He told me he would return him when I obeyed him.
— Did he?
Anna shook her head.
— No.
For months, Anna searched.
She filed reports.
She contacted hospitals.
She asked everyone she knew.
But her father had connections.
The records disappeared.
The baby disappeared.
Anna was told that her son had died.
But she never believed it.
— What happened to Maria?
I asked.
Anna looked at her daughter.
— Maria was my second child.
I stared at her.
— Second?
Maria lowered her head.
Anna nodded.
— I had another baby years later.
— Maria?
— Yes.
I looked at Maria.
— Then the baby I saw in the yellow room…
Anna interrupted softly.
— Was my son.
I felt a strange emptiness inside me.
For forty-nine years, I had believed the baby in that crib was the child standing before me.
But Maria was not that baby.
The nurse beside my bed was Anna's daughter.
The child I had held that night was someone else.
A son.
A missing son.
A child whose fate remained unknown.
I looked at Anna.
— Did you ever find him?
She shook her head.
— Not until three months ago.
My heart began pounding.
— What did you find?
Anna looked at Maria.
Maria stood and opened her bag.
She pulled out a photograph.
She placed it on my blanket.
I looked down.
It showed an older man.
Maybe seventy years old.
Gray hair.
A familiar smile.
I stared at the photograph.
Then my hands began to shake.
Because I had seen that face before.
Not in a photograph.
In this hospital.
I whispered:
— I know him.
Anna leaned closer.
— Who is he?
I looked at the photograph.
— His name is David.
Maria's eyes widened.
— David?
I nodded.
— He has been coming to this hospital for months.
Anna grabbed my hand.
— Where is he?
I pointed toward the hallway.
— Somewhere on this floor.
Then we heard footsteps outside.
A man's voice spoke to a nurse.
Anna froze.
Maria turned toward the door.
The voice came closer.
And then someone knocked.
Three soft knocks.
Knock… knock… knock…
The exact same sound that had changed my life forty-nine years earlier.
