FICTION
When Tears Find Their Way
— FLASH FICTION by Radmila Stojadinović
(Translated from Serbian by Jovana Stojadinović)

I
searched for him my whole life.
Thirty
years.
Three
decades of hell, of aching silence, of hope that refused to die.
I
remember that day as if it were stitched into my skin.
A
moment of distraction at the market, the crowd, a scream.
I
turned around—and he was gone.
Just
emptiness.
Just
my cry tearing the air apart like broken glass.
They
told me to move on.
But
how do you go on when someone rips your heart out?
I
never stopped.
Never.
And
then—
A
message.
Unknown
sender.
A
few lines.
A
photograph.
I
stared at the face of a man in his late thirties.
And
I forgot how to breathe.
The
same birthmark under the left eye.
The
same curve of his lips.
The
eyes…
My
eyes.
It
was him.
The
address led me to a small northern town.
I
stood frozen in front of a café, my legs heavy as stone.
My
heart thundered so violently it hurt.
Through
the window, I saw him.
My
son.
My
hands were shaking as I stepped inside.
I
sat quietly at a table in the corner.
He
walked past me—
Didn’t
see me.
Didn’t
know me.
Then
he approached.
“What
would you like to order?”
I
froze.
His
voice.
His
voice—and my soul shattered.
“Your
name is Dejan, isn’t it?” I whispered.
He
looked puzzled, smiled gently.
“Yes…
how do you know?”
My
eyes filled with tears.
“That’s
what I used to call you… when you were little.”
I
saw him pull back. A step away.
“I’m
sorry,” he said softly, “But… I don’t have a mother. I grew up in an orphanage.
I was adopted. My parents died.”
“They
didn’t.” My voice cracked.
“They
took you from me.”
I’m
your mother.”
He
stared at me.
His
eyes darted — then returned, searching my face. Searching for truth, for
memory, for something buried deep in his mind.
I
reached into my bag and pulled out a faded photograph.
A
little boy, holding my hand.
My
son.
“This
is you… before they took you.”
He
said nothing.
Just
held the photo.
Looked
at it — then at me.
His
breathing changed.
I
saw it—
The
collapse of a world he thought he knew.
A
lifetime unmade in a heartbeat.
And
then…
His
hand brushed mine.
An
unconscious touch, but in that moment, everything shattered and everything
healed.
Tears
slid down his face.
“Mama…?”
he whispered, testing a word that had never belonged to him.
I
couldn’t hold back.
I
pulled him to me, held him as if he might lost again.
Thirty
years of grief, pain, and longing vanished in one embrace.
I
found him.
And
I will never let him go again.
Outside,
on the pavement in front of the café, the shadows of the past faded.
A
new story was being written—
One of a mother and son who, against
all odds, found their way back to each other.
….
(Translated from SERBIAN by
Jovana
Stojadinović)
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Radmila Stojadinov
Radmila Stojadinović, born in 1970, Požarevac, Serbia, is a versatile author of poetry, short stories, novellas, and satire. She has published two novels in 2023 and in 2024. Her work appears in both literary journals and international anthologies. She is a recipient of numerous literary awards, and her writings have been translated into several languages. She currently lives and writes in Požarevac, Srbia.
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More by Radmila Stojadinović:
— POEM by Radmila Stojadinović
(Translated from Serbian by Jovana Stojadinović)
Creating Our Realm
— POEM by Radmila Stojadinović
(Translated from Serbian by Jovana Stojadinović)

Jovana Stojadinović
Jovana Stojadinović was born in 1997 in Požarevac. She completed her Master’s degree in Psychology and is currently finishing her studies at the Faculty of Psychotherapy. She lives in Serbia.
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