Questions Nobody Wants Answered

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Tosan stared at the photograph in his hands.

The woman couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. She was standing beside a younger version of his father, both of them smiling at the camera.

But it wasn’t the smile that caught his attention.

It was the eyes.

The same eyes.

The same shape.

The same softness.

The same look he had seen in Amire.

His throat tightened.

“Who is she?”

His mother adjusted her wrapper.

Nobody answered.

Tosan looked from her to his father.

“Who is she?”

His father reached for his glass of water.

“Tosan.”

“No.”

Tosan sat upright.

“Don’t do that.”

His father frowned.

“Do what?”

“Answer a question with my name.”

Silence.

The older man’s jaw tightened.

His mother suddenly became very interested in arranging the photo album.

And that was when Tosan knew something was wrong.

Very wrong.

“Who is she?” he asked again.

His father took a slow breath.

“Someone I knew a long time ago.”

Tosan almost laughed.

“Someone you knew?”

“Yes.”

“That’s the answer?”

His father said nothing.

The silence was answer enough.

That evening, Tosan left his parents’ house with more questions than he had arrived with.

The photograph sat on the passenger seat.

His mother had reluctantly allowed him to take a picture of it with his phone before he left.

Now he couldn’t stop looking at it.

At a traffic light, he zoomed in.

The woman looked familiar.

Not because he knew her.

Because she looked like someone else.

Someone he had met only days ago.

His phone buzzed.

Amire.

A smile appeared despite everything.

How was the family visit?

Tosan stared at the message.

Part of him wanted to tell her everything.

The photograph.

His father’s reaction.

The strange resemblance.

Instead he typed:

Stressful.

Her reply came immediately.

Family meetings are usually stressful. Survived?

Barely.

Then I deserve to buy you ice cream.

Tosan laughed.

That’s your solution?

Works every time.

For the first time since leaving his parents’ house, the knot in his chest loosened.

The following evening, they met at a small café in Victoria Island.

The conversation flowed easily.

Too easily.

As though they had known each other longer than a few days.

Amire spoke about her work.

Tosan told embarrassing stories from university.

She laughed so hard she nearly spilled her drink.

Several people turned to look.

She immediately covered her face.

“Oh God.”

“What?”

“Now everybody is staring.”

“You brought this on yourself.”

“You’re the one telling ridiculous stories.”

“You laughed.”

“Because they were funny.”

“No. Because you’re dramatic.”

Amire pointed a finger at him.

“Don’t start.”

For a moment, everything felt simple.

Comfortable.

Normal.

The way new relationships are supposed to feel.

Then Tosan’s phone lit up.

A call from his mother.

His smile faded.

“Everything okay?” Amire asked.

“I don’t know.”

He answered.

“Mummy?”

Her voice sounded strange.

Uneasy.

“Tosan.”

His chest tightened immediately.

“What happened?”

“Your father…”

She stopped.

As if choosing her words carefully.

“He wants that photograph deleted.”

Tosan blinked.

“What?”

“He said you shouldn’t keep it.”

Confusion swept through him.

“Why?”

His mother hesitated.

Then she lowered her voice.

“Because that woman is connected to something he never wanted brought up again.”

The café suddenly felt very far away.

Very quiet.

Tosan glanced at Amire.

She was watching him now.

Concern written across her face.

“Mummy,” he said slowly, “who exactly was that woman?”

A long silence followed.

Then his mother whispered something that made his blood run cold.

“She was supposed to become part of this family.”

To be continued…