At a glamorous wedding banquet, a young boy stopped in shock after recognizing the bride as his long-lost mother. The groom’s next move brought everyone to tears.

Does my mother live like this?
Or is she poor… like me?

Then the music shifted.

The announcer’s voice rang clear:

—Ladies and gentlemen… the bride.

Everyone turned toward the staircase covered in white flowers.

And there she appeared.

Radiant. Calm. Wrapped in a flawless white dress. Long black hair cascading over her shoulders, a smile full of promise and celebration.

But Iktan stopped breathing.

Not because of her beauty.

Because of her wrist.

There—on her arm—was a red woven bracelet.

The same color.
The same thread.
The same worn knot.

Identical to the one he had worn his entire life.
Iktan rubbed his eyes.
He stood up abruptly and walked toward the stage, trembling.

“Ma’am…” she said, her voice breaking, ”
that bracelet… are you… are you my mother?”

The room fell into absolute silence.

The music kept playing, but nobody was breathing.

The bride stopped.
She looked at her wrist.
Then she looked at the child.

And he saw her eyes.

The same ones.

Her legs gave way. She knelt in front of him.

“What’s your name?” he asked, trembling.

—Iktan… I am Iktan… —the boy replied, crying.

The microphone fell to the floor.

The murmurs erupted:

—Is he your son?
—Really?
—How can that be?

The groom, an elegant and serene man, approached.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a low voice.

The bride burst into tears.

—I was 18… I got pregnant… I was alone… without support…
I couldn’t keep him…
I gave him up…
But I never forgot him…
I kept this bracelet all these years hoping to find him again…

She hugged the child tightly.

—Forgive me, son! Forgive me!

Iktan hugged her too.
—Don Eusebio told me not to hate you…
I’m not angry, Mom…
I just wanted to find you…