Emma glanced toward the window.
“I don’t know. Part of me wants answers. Another part of me is afraid that opening this door will bring back everything I worked so hard to leave behind.”
“Then you don’t have to open it.”
Emma smiled sadly.
“But you might want to know more someday.”
“Maybe,” Sophie admitted. “I don’t know what I feel yet. I just know I don’t want anyone deciding what I should know about my own life.”
The words struck Emma harder than she expected.
They were almost identical to what her father had written in his letter.
And Sophie was right.
The truth belonged to both of them, but neither of them had to rush toward it.
Over the next few weeks, Elisabeth helped Emma locate Helena.
She was living in a neighboring district, in a small apartment not far from the city center.
Emma waited several days before making the call.
