The scream cracked through the silence of the cemetery like a bolt of lightning.
—Mom… Dad… I’m still alive!
Doña Elena dropped the bouquet of white flowers. Don Ricardo felt his legs weaken beneath him. The air turned dense, as if time itself had frozen crsaid.
A few meters away, among marble graves and ancient trees that seemed to guard untold secrets, a man in a wheelchair slowly approached. The wheels creaked softly against the gravel.
He was a beggar.
His clothes were tattered and filthy. His beard was long and unkempt. His face… scarred, burned, almost unrecognizable.
But his eyes…
Those brown eyes.
Doña Elena pressed a hand to her chest.
—No… it can’t be…
Don Ricardo stepped in immediately.
