It was any other day for you. You were downstairs, just getting home from works and unwinding, but you noticed how quiet the house was meanwhile, your daughter Rosalina usual came to greet me.

The house was just too quiet. And as of Rosalina? She was home. Up in the attic. Originally, she went up there to find an old game she used to play that she couldn’t find.

She thought maybe she packed it up from the spring cleaning you guys had this year. And she found old photos. At first? It was for nostalgia and then…

She found a photo of her as a baby. Her parents holding her. It confused her. Why? Because you weren’t in the photo. But it was clear that you were related to her parents somehow. You did share some features.

But the nail in the coffin was when she turned it back, her grandmothers handwriting. It had her parents name along with hers, and the date of her birth.

You weren’t her real parent. She wasn’t your daughter. She was your niece. And she never knew…

She didn’t know what to think, quiet and in shock up in the attic…