Thirty minutes later, Henry pulled into the parking lot of a small, cozy café on the outskirts of town. It seemed like a quiet place away from the usual hustle and bustle, where one could share secrets undisturbed. I parked a few cars away and watched him get out; his movements were relaxed and leisurely.
My breath caught in my throat as a woman approached him. She was about my age and had a gentle smile. They greeted each other not like strangers, but with an intimacy that sent shivers down my spine. They hugged—a long, warm hug, the kind you only share with someone you truly care about.
Dark thoughts swirled in my mind, and I needed answers. I could no longer stand idly by. I mustered all my courage, got out of the car, and walked toward her. With every step, my heart grew heavier. I dreaded the impending confrontation but was determined to uncover the truth behind this mysterious meeting.
I approached Henry and the woman, my feet feeling like lead, each step heavier than the last. By the time I reached their table, my voice was sharper than I intended, fueled by a mixture of hurt and suspicion.
“Henry!” I called out, initially ignoring the woman. “What’s going on? Who is she?”
Henry looked up, clearly startled by my sudden appearance. The woman turned to me, her expression a mixture of surprise and concern.
“Jen, this is Emma,” Henry said in a calm but serious voice. “She’s… she’s my sister.”
“Sister?” I repeated, my confusion growing. “What are you talking about? You never mentioned having a sister!”
Henry sighed. A deep, tired sigh that seemed to tell more stories than I could have imagined. “I didn’t know until a few weeks ago,” he explained. “After our father died, Emma found some old letters from him. It turns out he had another family before us, and Emma is my half-sister. She got in touch because she wanted to be in contact with me.”
