My name is Matteo, and I grew up believing that I had a simple and loving family, a refuge full of warmth.
In my child’s eyes, my parents, Clara and Lorenzo, were inseparable — or at least, that’s how I saw it with the innocence of childhood.
My father owned a small mechanical workshop in a quiet village called Borgo San Vito, nestled in the hills of Tuscany, and my mother stayed at home to take care of me. I was their only child, and back then, I firmly believed that nothing could ever destroy our little world.
But one day, everything collapsed like a house of cards. Dad was suddenly fired. I didn’t fully understand what it meant, but I saw his smile disappear. He became quiet, defeated, as if something inside him had broken. He found another job, yes, but money slipped away like water through his fingers. At night, my mother’s screams filled the house, accompanied by the sound of breaking dishes. I hid under the covers, trembling, praying for the storm to end.
Then came the hardest blow. Dad discovered that Mom was cheating on him with another man. Our home became a battlefield: screams, cries, and the slam of the door as Dad left. He abandoned us: Mom and me. I missed him so much that I felt I couldn’t breathe. I begged Mom to take me with him, but she shouted:
— It’s his fault, Matteo! He betrayed us, he’s a miserable man!
Her words were knives, but they couldn’t cut the love I felt for my father out of my heart.
One cold morning, Mom approached me with a smile I hadn’t seen in a long time:
— Pack your things, sweetheart, we’re going to the sea! — she said.
My heart leapt. The sea! It seemed like a dream. I started putting clothes into an old suitcase. I wanted to take my little toy trains, but she stopped me:
— I’ll buy you new ones there, much nicer.
I trusted her. How could I not? She was my mother.
We went to the bus station, a chaos of voices and hurried steps. She bought the tickets and told me that before boarding the big bus, we would make a quick stop. We got on an old, creaky bus that groaned over every pothole. I stared out the window, dreaming of waves, sandcastles. Finally, we got off in front of a dirty, gray building with peeling walls.
— Wait here, Matteo — she said, pointing to a wooden bench.
— I’m going to get you an ice cream. Stay still, okay?
I nodded, sat down, and waited.
An hour passed. Then another. Mom didn’t return.
The sun began to set, the wind turned cold, and a knot of fear tightened in my throat.
I looked at the lit windows, hoping to see her figure with an ice cream. But she didn’t come.
Night fell over me like a heavy blanket, and I, a lonely child, remained abandoned there.
I cried, called out for her, but my voice got lost in the darkness. Exhausted, freezing, and scared, I curled up on the bench and fell asleep.
When I woke up, I was no longer outside. I was in a warm bed, in an unfamiliar room.
For a second, I thought Mom had taken me somewhere.
— Mom! — I shouted.
But the one who entered was… Dad. And behind him, a woman I didn’t know.
I jumped up, heart pounding:
— Dad! Where’s Mom? She went to buy ice cream and disappeared! What happened?
He sat beside me, his face tense. He took my hand and said in a firm voice:
— Matteo, your mother abandoned you. She’s gone. And she’s not coming back.
It was like a lightning bolt.
Abandon me?
Mothers don’t do that!
I screamed that it was a lie, that she had promised to take me to the sea.
But Dad hugged me tightly and repeated:
— She’s not coming back, son.
The truth wasn’t sugar-coated. It was given to me raw, direct.
Years passed.
We moved to Positano, a coastal city where the sea roars against the rocks.
The woman with Dad was named Giulia. She was kind, although at first, I wanted nothing to do with her.
With time, I started calling her Mom — not the one who left me behind, but the one who cared for me.
My little sister, Sofia, was born, and for the first time, I felt like I had a real family. A home without screams, without secrets, without betrayal.
As I grew older, Dad told me more.
Mom had called him the morning after leaving me on that bench, her voice cold, just to give him the address, then she hung up. She lost custody rights, and we never heard from her again.
Life continued.
We moved to a bigger house. I finished school, graduated with honors, and got a good job.
When I saved enough money, I bought my own apartment in the center of Positano. Dad and Giulia helped me with everything.
One night, coming home from work in the rain, I saw a figure sitting on a bench outside my building.
A chill ran down my spine.
She lifted her head and murmured:
— I am your mother…
I froze.
She was an old woman, unrecognizable.
Why now?
After so many years?
I took out my phone and called Dad and Giulia. They arrived quickly. Their presence gave me strength.
Dad looked at me and said:
— The decision is yours, son… if you think she deserves a place in your life.
I looked at her.
The woman who left me alone on a cold night.
And I felt nothing. Only emptiness.
The building’s buzzer rang. Dad went to open the door, and she tried to follow him.
Then I said:
— You are not my mother. My mother is the one who raised me, who held me when you ran away. I don’t want your apologies. Go away. And don’t come back.
She cried.
But I didn’t move.
I watched her walk away, swallowed by the darkness.
I turned and hugged Dad and Giulia with all my strength:
— I love you — I said, my voice trembling — thank you for everything.
They were my family. My home. My salvation.
And she… just a distant memory of a past that no longer has any power over me.
Never abandon your children. They didn’t ask to come into this world. If you brought them here, the least they deserve is love. I, Matteo, know this better than anyone.
