My father thought for a moment. "Your mother did have a family crest-a brooch. Your mother carried it to commemorate her time in the Avila family."

"Oh? Do you know where it ended up?" I couldn't wait to ask, thrilled that this family crest actually existed.

My father shook his head and sighed, "I don't know. I never saw it again after your mother and I parted ways."

His voice choked up as he spoke about it.

Coming back home, he mainly reminisced about my mother. I suppose that was his greatest emotional wound. He returned, but his beloved was no longer with him.

That kind of pain must have been unbearable. So, every time my mother was mentioned, he would tear up slightly.

I pressed further. "So, where did Mom usually keep her jewelry? I mean, when you were together?"

"Your mother wasn't fond of jewelry. I think she avoided them to avoid putting pressure on me. After we got together, she knew I was struggling financially, so she rarely wore jewelry. That brooch was part of a set which she only wore for special occasions." My father seemed lost in memories.

did well, and we made some money, I bought

everything he said felt like storytelling. I had almost no recollection of any of it. Even their

once suggested she keep it in a safe. She laughed and said, 'In this house, with its doors open at night, why

little,

be so much better. Even if my father couldn't stand up anymore, I was sure my

I never brought it up again. That brooch was probably

it look like? I mean, like the color or the design?"

flower set with rubies, which was their national flower. It symbolizes

made of ruby."

listened intently, picturing it in my

when you were little, asking everyone, 'Do I look pretty?" My father remembered, looking at me with affection. "That was probably the last time I saw

then sighed quietly, "I don't remember

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