Elena's father, Andrei, is in a dark suit, his hands clasped in front of him, his expression somber. Her mother, Ioana, is wearing a black cardigan and a floral dress, her face pale.
They all look like they did the day of the funeral, and I guess being here reminds them of that.
"Thank you all for coming," I say, my voice low.
Andrei nods.
"Thank you for the invitation. It's... good to see you," Ioana says.
"Yes," Stefania says with a fake smile.
"You said it was important," Andrei says. "Is everything alright?"
"Yes, yes, fine," I say and gesture toward the dining room.
"Please, come with me."
They follow me down the hallway, their footsteps slow and hesitant.
I glance at Stefania, and she's staring at the floor, gripping the wine bottle tightly.
We reach the dining room, and I step aside, letting them enter first.
"Please, right in here," I say.
Stefania walks in, her eyes scanning the room, and then she sees Elena.
She freezes.
The wine bottle slips from her hands.
It shatters loudly across the hardwood floor, red wine pooling like blood around the broken glass.
Stefania slaps both hands over her mouth, her eyes going wide, her entire body trembling.
"Oh my God," she says, her voice muffled behind her hands.
Andrei steps forward. "Stefania, what happ—" His gaze locks onto Leni.
"Elena?" he says, his voice broken and trembling.
Elena's eyes fill with tears.
“Hi Tati,” she says looking straight at her father.
For a moment, no one moves, and then Andrei's face crumples, and he rushes forward, pulling Elena into his arms.
She collapses against him, sobbing, and he holds her tightly, his shoulders shaking.
Ioana stumbles forward into the room. "My baby," she says. "My God, my baby girl." She runs to Elena and wraps her arms around both of them, crying.
Stefania looks like a deer in headlights, and she looks at me, and I nod.
"It's really her," I say and smile.
Finally, she moves fast, almost tripping over the leg of a chair before throwing herself into her sister's embrace.
I stand in the doorway, my chest tight, watching them. It's crying, hugging, and broken words.