There are times when life seems to come to a complete halt. One of those moments came when, after ten years convinced that I had lost my husband and daughter, I found an old bottle with a message inside. I barely remember how I got home that day. I had the object clenched in my hands as if the meaning of my whole life were kept in it. When I closed the kitchen door, the silence became almost unbearable.
The discovery that reopened a wound
The handwriting on the yellowed paper was unmistakable: it belonged to Andrew. In the first lines he asked me for forgiveness and confessed something impossible to assimilate: they had not died, as I had believed during all those years. It continued with a revelation that froze my hands: Alina, our daughter, was alive. However, returning was impossible for both of them. Someone was watching them.
The message read clearly: “If you are reading these lines, it is because you managed to find us. But don’t dig any further: it’s too dangerous. They were already close to you.” Ten years of pain, of waiting and of emptiness suddenly took on a new, much more disturbing meaning.
