After my mother died, I found a photo album from my childhood – in one of the photos, a girl was standing next to me, she looked exactly like me

It had always just been my mother and me.

Margaret was the only person who could know anything.

I didn't call her. I was afraid she'd say she was busy.

I didn't want excuses. I wanted the truth.

So I took my car, put the photo on the passenger seat and went straight to her house without warning.

Margaret was the only person who could know anything.

I parked in front of his house just before sunset. I sat in the car for a while, the photograph still on the seat next to me.

Then I approached the door and knocked.

It took longer than expected for it to open. When it did, my aunt was standing there, leaning heavily on a cane. Her hair was gray, her face thinner, wrinkled from years spent carrying things alone.

I then approached the door and knocked.

She looked at me. "Anna," she said.

" Good morning. "

She stepped aside to let me in.

My heart was pounding. Without saying a word, I rummaged in my bag and pulled out the photo.

I handed it to him.

As soon as she saw it, her hand flew to her mouth. She sank into the nearest armchair, the photo trembling between her fingers.

For full cooking steps, turn to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.