THE LOST SON- PACO DEL PRADO

CHAPTER 1 Gabriel Santos was eighteen years old when he began to question everything he knew about his family. He was a quiet young man with dark eyes, thick black hair, and a thoughtful expression that often made people believe he was older than his actual age. He had inherited his mother's gentle nature, but beneath his calm appearance lived a restless heart. He was a hardworking student who understood the value of sacrifice. Every morning, he helped his mother prepare vegetables for the public market before walking to school. After classes, he sometimes assisted a neighbor at a small repair shop to earn extra money. Their house was old, its wooden walls weakened by years of rain and sunlight. During heavy storms, water sometimes entered through the roof, forcing them to place basins beneath the leaks. Yet Gabriel never complained about their poverty. He knew how hard his mother worked to provide for him. Maria Elena Santos was the only parent he had ever known. She was a woman of remarkable strength, although the years had begun to leave their marks on her face. Her hands were rough from washing clothes and carrying baskets of vegetables. Her back ached after long days at the market, but she rarely allowed herself to rest until Gabriel had eaten. Whenever he thanked her, she simply smiled. "That is what mothers do, anak." But Gabriel knew there was something she was not telling him. Every time he asked about his father, her expression changed. Sometimes she pretended not to hear him. Other times she answered with vague statements that only created more questions. One evening, as the sun disappeared behind the hills, Gabriel sat beside her on their wooden porch. "Ma, can I ask you something?" Maria continued sorting vegetables. "You always have questions, anak. What is it this time?" Gabriel smiled faintly. "About my father." Her hands stopped moving. The silence lasted only a few seconds, but Gabriel noticed it. Again. Always the same reaction. "Why do you keep asking about him?" Maria asked. "Because I want to know who he is." "You have me." "I know, Ma. And I am grateful for everything you have done. But I have a father somewhere, don't I?" Maria looked away. Gabriel continued. "Is he still alive? Does he know that I exist? Does he have another family?" "Gabriel, please." "Ma, I'm eighteen years old. I think I'm old enough to know the truth." Maria placed the vegetables inside a basket. "Your father was young when I knew him." "How young?" She hesitated. "Fourteen." Gabriel frowned. "Fourteen? You mean you were both children?" Maria nodded. "Yes." "What happened?" "We made mistakes." Gabriel stared at her. "What kind of mistakes?" Maria closed her eyes. "The kind that can change a person's life forever." Gabriel felt a growing frustration. "That doesn't answer my question." "I know." "Then why won't you tell me?" Maria turned toward him. Her eyes were filled with sadness. "Because I am afraid that knowing the truth will hurt you." Gabriel shook his head. "Not knowing already hurts me, Ma." He stood and walked toward the road. Maria wanted to call him back, but the words would not come. She watched her son disappear into the evening darkness. For eighteen years, she had protected him from a truth she believed would destroy his peace. But she was beginning to understand that silence had become its own kind of suffering. And the boy she had raised with so much love was no longer willing to live with unanswered questions.