The maid stood before Jolin as tense gazes gathered around her, yet she did not shrink from facing those present. She raised her hand and wiped away a tear she couldn’t suppress, then stated that her voice was not new to Benjamin—that he had heard it many years ago. Faces grew clouded with confusion and whispers intensified, while Jolin took a single step forward as if demanding an explanation that could not be delayed. She continued in a broken voice, explaining that seven years ago, she used to help in the neonatal ward at the hospital where Benjamin was born, at a time when his mother, Clara, was suffering from a severe post-birth ailment.
The details of the past began to unfold slowly, like a curtain being drawn back from a dark window. The maid said that Clara could not hold her baby much during those first days, so she was the one who sat near him for long hours. She would cradle him when he cried, read him little stories, and sing quiet songs so he wouldn’t feel lonely in his small crib. She never expected him to remember her voice, but she noted that the infant had clung to her tone in a way that had caught everyone’s attention back then.
Silence enveloped the hall as those present realized that Benjamin hadn’t remained silent because he lacked psychological treatment. He was searching for something that resembled the embrace of the mother he had lost—a voice he recognized from the very first days of his life, warm memories he couldn’t express but missed dearly. He was searching for that lone voice he had heard during the first three days of his existence when his mother was unable to be near him. He was searching for the beginning of a sense of security that everyone assumed had been lost with him forever.
Jolin froze in place as he heard these details, tears burning his face in silence. He never knew that a small piece of his wife’s past had remained tied to another person—someone who asked for nothing but to offer sincere kindness. He approached the maid and gazed at her for a long time, as if trying to find old traces in her features. He found nothing but the same tenderness that made him feel he was standing before a woman who wasn’t just a worker, but a part of a story he had never known.
