Mr. Yule set the tea down and walked over to the old photo on the wall. “This is my family portrait,”


    he said softly. “I’m the only one left now.”


    “Family portrait?” I asked, pointing to the little girl in the red dress. “She’s part of your family too?”


    “That’s my younger sister. She was two when we took this photo,” Mr. Yule replied, his voice heavy


    with sorrow.


    “Where is she now?” My breath hitched as unease crept in Was I wrong about the connection I


    thought I’d found?


    For a moment, Mr. Yule just stared at the picture. My chest tightened. “Mr. Yule?” I prompted.


    “She went missing,” he finally said, his voice trembling. “She disappeared the same day this picture


    was taken.”


    My heart raced. “Missing? How? What happened?” My hand darted out, clutching his sleeve as if


    that could steady the whirlwind in my mind.


    His eyes stayed glued to the photo. “It was supposed to be a happy day. After this photo, my


    parents had a keychain made from it–turned it into a ne for her. We went to the amusement


    park to celebrate…” His voice faltered.


    He swallowed hard. “Later that day, my mom took her to the restroom. While they were inside, my


    mom fainted. When she woke up… my sister was gone.”


    My stomach dropped. A cold realization swept over me. It’s her. It has to be.


    She had told me she was an orphan. And she always wore a ne–a keychain with a tiny


    photograph inside it.


    The thought of my mom, forced to grow up in an orphanage, made my chest ache. “Didn’t you try to


    find her?” I asked, my voice trembling.


    “We searched everywhere. At first, my parents waited near the amusement park, hoping she’d turn


    up. Then theybed through the city, and after that, the whole country. But…” His voice dropped


    to barely a whisper. “My mom med herself. She spiraled into depression. And one day, she…”


    He didn’t finish, but the silence hung like a storm cloud.


    Then, after what felt like forever, he spoke again. “She drowned herself,” he said. “My dad arranged


    the funeral, but he couldn’t let go. He kept searching. Every lead, every rumor, he followed it.


    Until…” Mr. Yule’s voice cracked. “Until he died in a car ident, chasing what turned out to be


    another dead end.”


    I froze, the weight of his words sinking in like cold water.


    My mom’s disappearance hadn’t just stolen her childhood it had shattered an entire family. What


    should have been a life full of love andughter had been destroyed, leaving only heartbreak


    behind.


    “And you… you didn’t keep looking?” I asked, my voice soft.


    Mr. Yule’s expression darkened. “I tried. Narelle helped me post online, on forums, anywhere we


    could think of. She even wanted to take it to one of those family reunion TV shows…” He trailed off,


    his voice catching. “But before she could, she had her own ident.”


    Another tragedy.


    How could life be so cruel? So relentless?


    “Honestly,” he continued bitterly, “I hated my sister for a long time. Losing her destroyed our


    family.”


    His words left me frozen, unable to respond.


    But after a moment, his anger melted into something softer. He looked at me, hesitant. “You… have


    you seen this photo before?”


    His question made my chest tighten. His earlier words stung, but I couldn’t me him. He’d been


    through so


    much.


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    “I have,” I admitted softly. “My mom had a photo just like this. She wore it on a round keychain


    ne.”


    Mr. Yule froze. His face paled, his lips trembled, and his whole body started to shake.


    “Mr. Yule,” I said quickly, stepping closer to steady him.


    “Your mother…” He could barely get the words out. “Where is she now?”


    His question cut through me. My throat tightened, and I hesitated. Seeing how fragile he looked, I


    wasn’t sure he could handle the truth. “Let’s sit down first,” I said gently, guiding him to a chair.


    “Is… is she alright?” he asked again, his voice breaking.


    “She… She passed away,” I said quietly.


    His body went rigid, tears welling in his eyes. For a moment, he didn’t speak, his grief suffocating


    the air around


    1. us.


    Even though he’d said he hated her, it was clear now–he had never stopped loving her.


    I told him everything: how my parents had died in a car crash, how they had passed away together.


    By the time I finished, he looked utterly drained, slumping back in his chair like the weight of the


    world had finally crushed him.


    “Mr. Yule…” I said softly, then stopped myself.


    No. I shouldn’t call him that anymore.


    “Uncle,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face.


    The word hit both of us like a tidal wave. For me, it was something I hadn’t had in years–a


    connection to family.


    For him, it was proof that after decades of searching, he hadn’t lost everything.


    “Uncle,” I said again, my voice trembling, as he finally broke down.