He looked at least eighty.
But when our eyes met, I didn’t see his age.
I saw the boy she had known for more than fifty years.
“Todor,” I whispered.
My breath stuck in my throat.
He took a few slow steps inward.
“Good morning, Elena,” he said.
His voice was changed by the years.
Deeper.
Quieter.
But I would have recognized him everywhere.
Todor Stoyanov.
My first love.
The boy who was waiting for me after the classes in front of the high school in Veliko Tarnovo. The boy who brought me wild daisies because he knew I didn’t like roses. The boy we once imagined a small house near Yantra with, a dog in the yard and three children who would run barefoot in the summer.
The man I had lost.
And my daughter’s father.
Sylvia sat down again.
Her face was white as a leaf.
“Who is this?” she asked.
No one answered immediately.
Todor turned to the judge.
“I apologize for the delay, Judge. There was a traffic jam on the road from Ruse and my car malfunctioned near Svishtov. But I will not allow Mrs. Mileva to be declared unable to make decisions before the whole truth is heard.
The judge looked at him carefully.
“You are?”
He pulled out his ID card and a few documents from the leather bag.
My name is Todor Stoyanov. The biological father of the child.
There was such silence in the hall that the air conditioner was heard buzzing under the windows.
Michael broke out first.
“That’s absurd!”
The judge looked at him sharply.
“Mr. Milev, I warn you for the last time.
He is eighty years old! My mother is seventy-nine! How can he say he’s the father of a baby?
Todor did not turn to him.
Just put the paperwork on the table in front of the judge.
You don’t have to believe my words. There’s medical research.
My lawyer, Mr. Stefanov, pulled out another folder.
“Your Honor, here are the results of DNA tests, certified by an independent laboratory. They confirm the fatherhood of Mr. Stoyanov.
The judge flipped through a few pages.
