During the May Day holiday, I discovered a photo I had never seen before in the attic of our old house.

In the photo, a boy I didn’t recognize stood next to my younger self, smiling warmly with his arm draped over my shoulder.

On the back, in faded ink, it read, [Photo with Cousin Gael, Spring Festival 2010.]

The strange thing was, I had no memory of this "Cousin Gael."

"Mom, who is this person?" I asked, holding the photo as I walked downstairs.

Mom glanced at it and frowned in confusion. "Which person? Isn’t this just a photo of you?"

I quickly snatched the photo back, only to find that the man had vanished.

What was even stranger was that during dinner, Dad suddenly asked, "By the way, when is Gael coming? We should have him stay for a few more days this time."

Everyone nodded in agreement, as though this cousin, whom I had never heard of, was a familiar family member.

I stood frozen at the table, my silverware suspended in midair.

"Cousin Gael?" I repeated the unfamiliar name, trying to search my memory for any related moments, but found nothing.

——

Mom reached over to touch my forehead with concern. "Florence, do you feel unwell?"

"I... I don't remember a cousin named Gael," I said cautiously.

Suddenly, the table fell silent.

My parents and aunt exchanged a strange look.

"You silly girl, what are you talking about now?" Aunt Micah chuckled, "Gael has been with you since you were little. You two were inseparable, like you were always in the same pair of pants."

"That's right," Dad added, tapping his spoon against the edge of his bowl with certainty, "He’s come to stay at our house for half a month every Spring Festival. Last year, he even taught you how to make those delicious sweet and sour ribs. Don’t you remember?"

I felt a wave of confusion.

I had no recollection of these events, but they described them so vividly, as if they had really happened.

"I really don’t remember... um, so who exactly is this Cousin Gael?" I asked again.

Another awkward silence followed.

"He’s..." Mom started to speak, but then stopped, her brow furrowing, her voice becoming uncertain. "He’s... your aunt’s relative, I think?"

"Oh no, that’s not right," Aunt Micah immediately interrupted, shaking her head. "He’s not from my side, Gael is from your uncle’s side."

"I think he’s your eldest uncle’s nephew. He’s even taller than your uncle, about one meter ninety," Dad chimed in, though his tone was less confident.

The three of them exchanged uncertain glances, and the atmosphere became extremely awkward.

"You’re all not sure whose relative he is?" I asked, feeling a sense of unease creeping in.

"Maybe we’re just getting old and our memories aren’t as good," Mom chuckled awkwardly, quickly changing the subject. "By the way, tomorrow we’re going to visit our ancestors. Make sure you prepare the new dress you bought."

After dinner, I returned to my room, picked up my phone, and started scrolling through my album.

If Cousin Gael really was as close to me as they claimed, there should be photos of us together on my phone.

However, after going through all the pictures, there wasn’t a single one that included anyone who could be "Gael."

I opened my contacts and searched for "Gael", but there were no results.

This was too strange.

A cousin who supposedly grew up with me, but who didn’t exist in my memory or digital life.

With growing confusion, I decided to ask more family members.

I called my cousin, Sheena, from Uncle Dominic’s side.

"Florence, what’s up?" Her voice came through the phone.

Frowning, I cut straight to the point. "Sheena, do you know Gael?"

"Gael?" Sheena repeated the name. "Of course, I know him. Doesn’t he come over to your house all the time?"

"Can you tell me whose child he is?" I asked eagerly.

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

"He’s..." Sheena's voice suddenly became uncertain. "Hold on, let me think..."

Another few seconds of silence.

"This is strange, I can’t remember all of a sudden. Anyway, he’s not from our side," she finally said. "Why are you suddenly asking about him?"

"Oh, nothing, just remembered him out of nowhere," I answered vaguely. "Can you describe what he looks like?"

Sheena laughed. "Gael? He’s a little chubby, short, round face, really cheerful-looking!"

A chill ran through me.

Dad said Gael was taller than my eldest uncle, who was six foot tall.

But Sheena described Gael as a short, chubby, cheerful-looking kid.

After hanging up the phone, I reached out to several more relatives, and the responses were all similar—everyone "remembered" Gael, but no one could confirm his exact identity.

When it came to his appearance, each description was different.

The next morning, I searched through my grandfather’s old study for the family genealogy, hoping to find some clues about Gael.

The thick genealogy recorded the information of several generations of our family, but after going through every page, there wasn’t a single mention of "Gael."

"Florence, what are you looking for?" Aunt Micah’s voice came from behind, giving me a start.

"I’m looking at the family tree," I said, closing the heavy book. "Aunt, do you remember anything about Cousin Gael when he was little?"

Aunt Micah smiled. "Of course I do. He was so mischievous, always following your dad around, learning this and that, couldn’t sit still for a second."

"Do you have any pictures of him when he was a kid?"

Aunt Micah’s smile froze. "Pictures? There should be some, I think..."

She pulled out her phone, scrolling quickly, but after a while, clearly having not found anything, she awkwardly gave up. "There are too many photos on this phone, I can’t find them right away."

"Where is he now? Why haven’t we kept in touch all these years?" I pressed on.

Aunt Micah’s expression grew even more confused. "He’s always been in touch, hasn’t he? Didn’t he come this past Spring Festival?"

"But I have no memory of that," I insisted. "And I went through all the photos, not a single one has him in it."

Aunt Micah fell silent for a moment, then sighed. "Florence, are you feeling too stressed from work? How could you suddenly forget someone so close to you?"

I didn’t say anything further.

Clearly, everyone else was convinced of Cousin Gael’s existence, while I had no memory of him whatsoever.

In the afternoon, the whole family went to the ancestral tombs to pay respects.

On the way back, my little niece, Sofia, suddenly said, "Mom, when is Uncle Gael coming? He promised to teach me how to make paper airplanes."

My sister, Donna, patted her daughter’s head. "Soon, he’ll come in a few days."

"He called me yesterday," Sofia said innocently, "He said he brought me a gift."

Donna and I exchanged a glance, and her expression told me she had no idea my niece had received such a call.

"When did you get that call?" Donna asked.

"Just last night, when you and dad went out," Sofia replied matter-of-factly. "Uncle Gael said he misses us and will be back soon."

That night, when we returned home, the relatives in the ancestral house were especially numerous due to the ancestral rites.

There were at least eleven adults, plus three little ones.

After dinner, I casually asked, "Do any of you know what Gael is doing for work lately?"

Uncle Dominic took a sip of wine and replied, "Isn’t he running long-haul trucks out west? I heard he’s about to finish his training and will be able to drive on his own soon."

Uncle John looked puzzled. "Isn’t Gael working as a programmer in the capital?"

Aunt Micah put down her fork. "Huh? I thought he was working in a factory down south?"

Everyone exchanged confused glances.

Squinting my eyes, I pressed on, "Well, you can just ask Gael! Whoever has his number, give him a call!"

Everyone pulled out their phones and started searching their contact lists. After a while, voices began to rise.

"I’m sure I had his number, but now I can’t find it."

"Same here, I don’t have it either."

"This doesn’t make sense, I talked to him just last week."

Not one of the eleven relatives had Gael’s number.

At this point, even the most oblivious person could tell something was off.

Uncle Dominic put down his glass, his tone serious. "Let’s all sit down and discuss what kind of person Gael is."

Everyone fell silent. Aunt Micah and cousin went upstairs to put the little ones to bed.

The men cleared the table downstairs and set out eleven cups, pouring tea.

Half an hour later, everyone had gathered again.

Uncle Dominic raised his cup and took a sip, his expression one of worldly wisdom. "I’ll start. This is for sure, Gael should be about thirty-five this year. He’s tall and drives a truck. Last year during the Spring Festival, we specifically talked about running the northwest routes. He said the road conditions were bad and that it consumed a lot of fuel."

Uncle John pushed his glasses up and frowned. "That doesn’t add up. Gael is definitely not over thirty. He’s a programmer, wears black-framed glasses, and is thin. Just a few months ago, he complained to me about working too much overtime, saying something like '996'."

Aunt Micah shook her head, looking certain. "My goodness, you’re all mistaken. Gael is thirty-two, and he works as a workshop supervisor in an electronics factory in Nashville. He’s fair-skinned and chubby, really good at talking and getting along with people."

I silently recorded these contradictory descriptions, my heart racing.

How could the same person have such different ages, professions, and appearances?

It was now Aunt Nerissa's turn. She thought for a moment before speaking. "I remember Gael as being very introverted when he was young. He’d always sit alone and quietly read books, never causing trouble."

Dad immediately countered, "That’s impossible! Gael was so mischievous when he was little! He’d climb trees and raid bird nests, there wasn’t a place in the village he was afraid to go to."

"I thought he was an only child," Sheena chimed in.

Uncle Dominic waved his hand dismissively. "No, he has a younger sister."

Aunt Isabella corrected him, "A younger brother!"

The atmosphere was growing more and more bizarre.

I looked around, and everyone’s face was filled with confusion and unease.

"Who are his parents?" I asked, dropping a crucial question.

"Well..." Aunt Micah began, then suddenly stopped, her brow furrowing. "His parents are... your third aunt’s relatives."

Aunt Nerissa immediately contradicted her. "No! He’s not from our side of the family!"

No one could answer.

The eleven relatives exchanged bewildered glances, the air thick with tension.

I broke the silence and asked, "Can anyone remember the last time they saw Gael and where?"

Dad thought for a moment, then said, "It was during the Spring Festival. He came to our house to teach Florence how to make sweet and sour ribs. We spent the whole afternoon together in the kitchen."