My name is Lina. I’m twenty years old, a design student, and people often say I carry myself with a maturity beyond my age. I grew up with my mother, a strong and determined woman who raised me on her own after my father passed away.
During a volunteer program in Guadalajara, I met Santiago, the logistics coordinator. He was calm, thoughtful, and significantly older than me. His gentle nature and quiet strength drew me in. What started as professional respect slowly grew into something deeper.
Santiago had faced many challenges in his life. He had a stable career and a difficult past, including a previous marriage. He rarely spoke about it, only saying he once lost something important and now cherished honesty and peace.
Our relationship developed naturally. He treated me with care, patience, and sincerity. While others questioned our age difference, I felt safe with him—like I had finally found someone who understood me.
One day, he told me softly:
“I want to meet your mother. I want our relationship to be open and honest.”
I was nervous—my mother was protective—but I knew it was the right step.
When we arrived at my childhood home in Tlaquepaque, Santiago held a bouquet of marigolds, my mother’s favorite flowers. She was in the garden when she spotted us walking in.
To my surprise, she froze. Then, without hesitation, she ran toward Santiago, embraced him tightly, and began to cry.
“It can’t be… Santiago!” she exclaimed.
I stood in disbelief as he looked at her with the same shock.
“Thalía?” he whispered.
My mother nodded, tears streaming down her face.
I had never seen her like that.
We all sat down inside, and my mother held my hand gently.
“Lina… when I was young, I loved a man named Santiago. The man standing here is that same person.”
My heart pounded. She explained that they had once shared a deep relationship, but her family disapproved. When Santiago had a serious accident, she lost contact with him and believed she would never see him again.
Santiago’s voice trembled as he added:
“When I recovered, I tried to return, but everything had changed. I heard you had a daughter, so I kept my distance.”
A sudden realization hit me.
“Mom… what are you trying to say?”
My mother squeezed my hand.
“Lina… you are Santiago’s daughter.”
The world around me fell silent. Santiago looked devastated, unable to speak. I felt a mix of disbelief and heartbreak.
The person I thought I was building a future with was actually the father I had never known.
My mother held me as tears streamed down my face. It was a moment filled with shock, grief, and a truth none of us expected.
That day, instead of introducing my partner, I witnessed an emotional reunion between two people separated by time—and I discovered a part of my own story that had been hidden for twenty years.
I had found my father… and lost my first love in the same moment.
