The affluent observed an impoverished old woman near the cemetery gates as he was making his way to his car following his wife’s funeral. He paused, withdrew some banknotes from his wallet, and presented them to her without a word
What are you going to tell your daughter?” the elderly woman questioned in a low voice after taking the money and giving him a serious look. Since the affluent had never produced a daughter, he froze
The millionaire was slowly making his way to the cemetery’s exit after burying his wife. There was a lot of snow falling outside, as if nature itself were mourning the woman he had loved more than life.
He was still standing next to the casket, which had just been dropped into the grave, and he was not aware of his damp garments or the cold. He felt as if his whole existence had been abandoned on that planet along with her.
There were people all around him. He saw acquaintances, business associates, and distant family members once a year. He scarcely heard anyone as they walked up to him, shook his hand, and said prepared things. He knew that many had come not merely to tell him farewell but also to observe him—wealthy, powerful, and now by himself.
When there were fewer people left, the driver quietly told him that the car was waiting at the gates. With a nod, the man proceeded. His thoughts were muddled, his feet slid into the damp snow, and all he felt inside was nothingness.
He had never had children with his wife. His house was now empty of any recognizable voices.
Near the gates, behind an ancient shelter, sat an elderly woman. wearing a black headscarf and bent over on a small wooden seat. These women are often seen near graves. The widower stopped, almost without looking, and took a few loose coins out of his pocket.
He whispered, “Remember my wife, please.”
Without doing any math, the woman took the money, glanced up, and studied his face carefully. She seemed to know more than she was communicating with her brilliant, unsettling eyes. She pondered for a bit, then asked abruptly:
“And what are you going to tell your daughter?”
The man came to a stop. The cold was not as intense as those statements. due to the fact that he had never had a daughter
With a slow breath, the man turned to face the old woman, perhaps hoping he had misheard. The words halted in his throat as he tried to explain that she was incorrect and that it couldn’t be true. The woman glanced at him coolly, without pity or contempt.
She added that she had been a nurse in a maternity department many years ago. She remembered his nuptials clearly. She had arrived in the middle of the night, afraid, alone, and almost without anything.
She had asked immediately away to keep her husband in the dark. He had little time and lived for his work, she added, and a child would disrupt his affluent existence.
At birth, the girl was in good health. Small, dark-haired, and silent. The mother, who had only been holding her in her arms for a few hours, grieved for a considerable amount of time while insisting that she was acting in everyone’s best interests. A few days later, the child was put up for adoption.
The elderly woman claimed to have seen his wife numerous times after that. She would visit and inquire about the girl’s well-being, whether she had found a family, and whether she was still alive.
She merely wanted to know that she was okay; she never requested to have the child returned. And each time she departed silently.
The man did not move. He had a buzzing head. He recalled how his wife would occasionally stare at kids on the street, how she would quickly shift the topic when it came to family, and how she would stay up late at night. He had not noticed it at the time.
Silently, he inquired as to the girl’s survival.
Yes, the elderly woman replied with a nod. An average family had adopted the girl. She had grown up, gone to school, and led a modest life. She had never sought out her biological parents and had no idea who they were. However, she was real. She was also still alive.
