In recent days, as the weather shifted and the air was cold, Ms. Evelyn’s chronic bronchitis flared up again. Her lingering coughs left her body increasingly drained. She sat in her chair, weaving the unfinished portion of a woolen scarf. Suddenly, a salty droplet, tasting of unshed tears, welled up in the corner of her eye and rolled down to the corner of her mouth. She hastily wiped it away, unwilling to let anyone see. Her sorrowful face mirrored years of unexpressed worries and bottled-up emotions.
Ms. Evelyn opened her phone to check the time, but a photo taken with Agnes a few years ago appeared, intensifying her emotions. Agnes was the daughter she loved the most. For reasons unknown, since their first meeting, Ms. Evelyn had always felt an intrinsic bond with this child, as if they shared the same bloodline. Since then, she has cared for and loved Agnes like a mother would her cherished child.
She pulled up her contacts and called Agnes. The phone rang several times, unanswered. Yet, Ms. Evelyn waited patiently, thinking perhaps Agnes was tied up with work. Just as she was about to give up and end the call, a young woman’s voice picked up, sounding slightly irritable.
“Do you need something, Mom? I told you I’m swamped and call when I’m free. So now…”
Before Agnes could hang up, Ms. Evelyn, in a weak and saddened voice, interjected, “I’ve been unwell these past few days and can’t move around much. If you could make time, please come and visit. It’s been nearly a year since you last came home, and I miss you dearly.”
The quiver in her voice, teetering on the brink of tears, made Agnes pause. After a moment of hesitation, she agreed to visit within the week.
Excitedly, Ms. Evelyn ended the call, looking forward to seeing her beloved daughter. Given Agnes’s rare visits, she was determined to prepare a feast to make her journey worthwhile.
She started tidying up the room she used to let Mary stay overnight. Agnes’s old room was being refurbished to make it more attractive and elegant. It wasn’t particularly big or small but was worn because the paint lost its original sheen over time.
While cleaning out the closet, she accidentally came across a photograph. It was none other than her lost sister, missing for decades, and next to her was a little girl who undoubtedly was her sister’s daughter.
Ms. Evelyn stood still, her hands trembling. She couldn’t believe her eyes, but the necklace the woman in the photo wore was identical to the one she possessed. When they were young, her father made matching necklaces for the two sisters, hoping they would always love, support, and remember their sisterhood in the coming years.
Each tear drop fell on the photograph, her lips curving into a smile. Ms. Evelyn laughed in happiness. She had always blamed herself for being negligent, for having lost her little sister all those years ago. She examined the picture, gently stroked it, and cradled it, her heart pounding wildly in her chest for a moment, making her forget the illness she was carrying.
Frantically, Ms. Evelyn flipped the photograph repeatedly, hoping to find additional information, but was left in despair. As much as she was glad to have found a tiny clue, she was sad to confront the vast river of life. How could she find one person when she only had an old, worn-out picture?
…
The weekend arrived, and Agnes, as promised, visited Ms. Evelyn. She always brought plenty of goods, and Ms. Evelyn often reminded her to save money on gifts. Agnes pledged that it was the last time but never changed this habit.
Looking at the heavy bag in her daughter’s hand, Ms. Evelyn scolded affectionately, “I’ve told you it’s unnecessary, yet here you are.”
Agnes leaned her head on her mother’s shoulder and pouted, “Mother, you’re getting old, so you need to take more care of yourself. Besides, I’ve bought some for the kids, too.”
Ms. Evelyn lightly tapped her head, a loving and familiar gaze in her eyes.
Agnes followed her mother inside. After exchanging greetings and concerns, Ms. Evelyn started to talk about what she had been keeping in her heart these past few days.
Agnes received the photo Ms. Evelyn handed her and asked, surprised, “Where did you get this photo?”
Ms. Evelyn saw a peculiar expression as if she knew the two people in the picture. Ms. Evelyn then explained how she had found it while cleaning the room Mary used to stay in.
Agnes was somewhat suspicious; she couldn’t understand why Ms. Evelyn would care about the people in the picture, as she knew they were Mary’s mother and child. Back in the days when they were close friends, Mary had shown her this picture. She was envious then, as Mary had a mother while she did not. Seeing the photo again was unsettling.
Agnes dared to ask why Ms. Evelyn was interested in them. Could it be that she had known them before?
In front of Agnes’s pressing questions, Ms. Evelyn confessed the whole truth and expressed her wish to meet them once. She asked for Agnes’s help in finding them.
Agnes didn’t react well to this news; she couldn’t believe her relationship with Mary could stretch this far. She had declared not wanting to live under the same sky with them, and now the only person who loved her, who she considered her mother, turned out to be related by blood to that family. What a cruel joke!
Without a word, Agnes left. Ms. Evelyn watched her go, puzzled as to why her attitude was like that. Had she done something wrong?
That night, Agnes stared at the photo for a long time, then murmured to herself, “If what mother said is true, then after they meet again, will she still see me as her daughter knowing everything? But if I don’t help her while I know about them, wouldn’t that be cruel?”
On the one hand, she had a mother who loved her; on the other, she had her enemy; she was genuinely torn.
Would she forgive her if Ms. Evelyn knew what Agnes had done to her sister’s family? But if Agnes didn’t help, it would take Ms. Evelyn much longer to find her family. From one perspective, Agnes was both good and not good.
In the solitude of the night, restless sleep eluded Agnes. True, she had committed countless transgressions against Mary, but she had always remained utterly sincere towards Ms. Evelyn. No one had ever shown her the kind of love Ms. Evelyn had, even though they shared no blood relation. If it hadn’t been for this compassionate woman, Agnes might not have survived this harsh society until today. Now, Ms. Evelyn had pleaded for her assistance – how could she find it in her heart to refuse?