The woman slowly pulled away.

“Dad?”

The boy nodded.

“He said you didn’t want me anymore.”

Her face went white.

“No. Your father told me you were dead.”

The little girl stood frozen beside them.

“Mom… he’s my brother?”

The woman nodded through tears.

“I searched for him for six years.”

She gently touched the scar above the boy’s eyebrow.

“I gave you that scar accidentally when you were learning to walk. You fell against my bracelet.”

The boy’s eyes filled.

He remembered someone kissing that scar every night.

A memory he had convinced himself was a dream.

The woman reached for him again.

This time, he let her hold his hand.

“Where is your father now?”

The boy looked toward the end of the alley.

“He comes every Friday.”

Her body stiffened.

“Why?”

The boy lowered his voice.

“To take the money I get begging.”

The woman’s expression changed from grief to horror.

Then a black car slowly turned into the alley.

The boy immediately started shaking.

“That’s him.”

The woman pulled both children behind her.

The car stopped.

A man stepped out.

And when he saw the woman standing there, he froze.

She stared at the husband who had once placed an empty coffin in front of her.

Then she whispered,

“You told me I buried my son.”