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Inside, the artisan busies himself at a table laden with tools and the delicate inner workings of watches. He's hunched over, his silver hair cascading around his shoulders like a waning waterfall. His face is lined with age, and his eyes hold a depth that speaks of countless secrets held close to his heart.
As I stand before the eccentric watchmaker, vague memories of meeting him several times in my childhood begin to surface. The details are fuzzy, but I remember his presence in our home, the laughter he shared with my father, and then... nothing. He disappeared from our lives without a trace, leaving only questions behind.
"Uncle," I say hesitantly, uncertain if he remembers me.
"Ah, Dario," he greets me with a crooked smile, not looking up from his work. "It's been a long time."
My lips break into a small smile. Even after all these years, Uncle Aurelio remains as sharp as a hawk.
"This is Jasmine," I gesture towards her, and she offers a tentative smile.
"Nice to meet you, signorina," he says, finally lifting his gaze to take us both in. His eyes are sharp, piercing through me as if he can read my mind.
“Likewise,” she mutters, her eyes thirstily soaking in all the trinkets around the store. I don’t blame her. Uncle Aurelio’s workshop is a fascinating place, right out of another world.
We stand there awkwardly, Jasmine and I, not knowing what to say, or do. Uncle stands and walks over to us, his hunched figure standing five feet nothing.
He looks up at me, his neck arched high, and places an arm on my shoulder. “I have missed you, dear boy. How about I make us some tea and you tell me what brings you to me after all this time.”
At last, seated across a little table with tea and cake, Uncle asks me to begin. His kindness brings a small comfort, knowing that he hasn't forgotten me entirely. But there's still so much I need to know. Taking a deep breath, I decide to delve into the matter at hand.
"Uncle, why did you leave our family?" I ask, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice. "Why did you distance yourself from my father?"
The artisan sighs heavily, his eyes downcast as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. "Your father... he disappointed me, Dario. He made choices that went against everything we believed in, everything we fought for."
"Then you're at war with him?" I inquire cautiously, aware of Jasmine's attentive gaze on me.
"With your father, yes," he admits, his eyes meeting mine with a fierce intensity. "But not with you, Dario. You're not responsible for his actions."
"Please, help me understand," I plead, feeling the weight of years of confusion bearing down on me. "I need to know what happened, what secrets my father has been keeping from me."
"Very well," he agrees after a long pause, his expression determined. "But the truth may not be easy to accept, Dario. Are you prepared for that?"
I exchange glances with Jasmine, her gaze steady and supportive, her hand reaching for mine. In that moment, I know that whatever lies ahead, she will help me weather that storm.
"Tell me everything."
“Perhaps not everything, my son. A secret keeper cannot reveal some secrets, but I will do everything in my power to help you find what you seek. You can look through your family’s things and make of it what you will, but I cannot answer any questions.”
“Please, Uncle,” I ask, desperately. “You don’t understand. I need to know everything I can. I believe my father is keeping secrets from me. secrets that are hurting others gravely, and I need to know the truth.”
My uncle hesitates, his eyes clouded with uncertainty. He glances around the workshop, as if searching for answers among the countless timepieces that line the walls.
"I understand, my son," he finally decides, his voice low and serious. "But remember, Dario, some truths are better left unknown. To protect your own soul, I cannot reveal all I know. But, I also cannot stop you from discovering truths for yourself."
In this moment, I know that beyond showing us what he has, there will be no answers for us here.
He leads us to a hidden corner of his workshop, where a dusty chest sits beneath a tangle of old tools and watch parts. He unlocks it carefully, revealing a cache of documents and heirlooms - remnants of a life long past.
“This,” he explains, “Is the Marchetti legacy. Your mother entrusted these to me, and your father often tried to get his hands on it. But I? I hid it well, to honor her memory.”
At this moment, I’ve never felt more grateful to Uncle Aurelio.
"Take your time, Dario," my uncle warns as Jasmine and I approach the chest. "These things have been hidden away for many years."
Jasmine squeezes my hand reassuringly, her presence giving me courage as we begin to sift through the forgotten pieces of my family's history.
"Look at this," she murmurs, unearthing a delicate gold locket among the papers. She opens it to reveal a faded photograph of a woman who bears a striking resemblance to my mother.
