When the gigantic clock adorning the dining room decoration was about to strike midnight, the guests were finishing their dessert, a fruit ice cream with a sponge cake that I couldn't swallow, not only because I already felt full from the almost seven courses that were served to us but also because my stomach churned at the thought of confronting my mother.
More than nervousness, it was anxiety caused by the fact that I was about to open a Pandora's box that was better left sealed.
What could there be in my past? Was there something that, once discovered, would so greatly affect my present that I would lose everything I had gained? Was my mother right in warning me, advising me that the time to know had not come, that I needed to be more prepared?
These were doubts that I would only cle
