My mother-in-law hated me because I didn’t give her a grandchild. She wanted to kick me out of the house. I took my three daughters and left. The next day, one of them pulled something out of her suitcase that took my breath away.

I opened the box… and almost held my breath.

There was no jewelry inside.

There were papers.

A small silver rosary intertwined with a red ribbon, an old black-and-white photograph of a baby wrapped in a blanket, and underneath, a yellowed envelope with my mother-in-law’s name written in blue ink: Rosario Dela Cruz, private.

I felt a chill.

“Did you open it, Mika?” I asked quietly.

My daughter immediately denied it, with those big eyes that always seemed to be asking for forgiveness even when they hadn’t done anything wrong.

“No, Mom. I just saw it under some blouses in Grandma’s drawer. I thought it was a box of candy.”

I stroked her head.

“It’s okay.”