A single father bought the cheapest house: the neighbors were stunned when they saw it.

Giuliano Ferretti had bought the cheapest house in the town, not by choice, but by necessity. 8 months earlier, Giulia had died on Tuesday morning while making coffee. A brain aneurysm. The doctor had said she hadn’t suffered. Giuliano didn’t know whether to believe it, but he had decided to cling to those words like a life preserver in the middle of the ocean.
Sofia was 7 years old and still waited for her mother in front of the window every morning. She did n’t say it, but Giuliano could see her. The house on Via Manzoni 14, in the province of Brescia, was the only thing he could afford with what was left of his bank account after the funeral. The debts.
The forced move from the rented apartment that he could no longer pay on his own. On the morning of the deed, the notary had looked at Giuliano with a strange expression, as if he wanted to say something. Then he lowered his eyes to the papers and didn’t speak again. The neighbors on Via Manzoni were outside the gate when he arrived with the van, not to help, but to look at a woman with gray hair. She had whispered something to the neighbor next door.
An elderly man had shaken his head. head slowly as you do when you witness something wrong and there’s nothing you can do Sofia clutched her book to her chest and wasn’t looking at anyone Giuliano had lifted the first box and climbed the steps to the veranda 1 creaked ominously it needed fixing and he had opened the moldy door the smell was the first problem closed old damp the smell of a house that hadn’t breathed in years then there was the peeling kitchen the stained ceiling the broken bathroom window was patched with yellowed tape
but Giuliano Ferretti was a metalworker he knew how to work with his hands he knew how to fix broken things it was people he did n’t know how to fix that evening after having arranged the mattresses on the floor because the bed wasn’t assembled yet Sofia had asked him dad is this house afraid of us or are we afraid of her Giuliano hadn’t been able to answer but at 3 in the morning when he couldn’t sleep and was wandering around the dark rooms with the flashlight on his phone he had found something that no one had told him
on the living room wall behind an old cupboard that he had moved to make room on the boxes here there was a small pencil writing in old cursive if You found this house maybe you are the right person to find the rest too Giuliano stood still in the dark with the flashlight pointed at those words for so long that he couldn’t measure the rest what the rest meant the next day Giuliano was on the roof checking the tiles when he heard the first voice he took it then the poor devil does n’t KNOW what he bought 2 women on the sidewalk
shopping bags Tony low but not enough Giuliano didn’t move he continued to look at the tiles and listen listen Ernesta died in the living room You know 3 days before anyone noticed the tobacconist’s daughter heard it on Monday morning and he even brings the little girl no Giuliano came down from the roof slowly Sofia was in the garden she was trying to straighten a wild rose bush she had found under the weeds she was working seriously with her Hands in the Earth as if the rose bush was the most important thing in the world
that little girl hadn’t cried yet Mother Giuliano knew that children sometimes wait for the right moment in the afternoon he had come to knocking the neighbor across the street his name was Renato Bianchi 72 years old retired from the Brescia steelworks direct manner of a man who had never learned to keep quiet when it would have been better listen he had said on the threshold without even introducing himself she knows the history of this house I know it’s mine Giuliano had replied Renato Bianchi had nodded
as if that was exactly the wrong answer Ernesta Colombo lived there for 57 years alone the last 20 she had no heirs at least that’s what she said at least that’s what she said that sentence had weight Giuliano what does he mean Giuliano had asked the old man had shrugged his shoulders I mean that once it must have been 2010 2011 a woman arrived here young Beautiful dark hair blonde she knocked on that door for 20 minutes Ernesta didn’t open I saw it with these eyes and then and then the woman left she was crying 3 Renato Bianchi had turned to go back to his house
then he stopped I do n’t know why I’m telling you these things maybe because he has a little girl and I’m sorry that house holds something inside that was never said be careful hello Giuliano had closed the door he had looked at the empty living room the moved cupboard the writing on the wall a young woman with dark hair was crying in front of this door Giulia had dark hair no it was a coincidence Giulia was from Bergamo she did n’t know anyone travagliato had never spoken about this area he had never spoken Giuliano stopped in the middle of the thought
Giulia almost never spoke about her family of origin she had said that her parents were dead that she was an only child that there was nothing else 7 years together and he had never met a single relative of hers he had never thought of it as something strange now yes he found her on Thursday he was dismantling the old parquet boards in the living room rotten unusable they had to be redone from scratch when his foot sank in a spot that gave way differently from the others it didn’t give way downwards he sat down sideways like 1 door
Sofia was at school it was the first week of school after the move new class new classmates and she had left that morning with the same serious expression with which she faced everything for 8 months this part giuliano knelt down he lifted the board with his fingers underneath there was a hollow in the cement as wide as a suitcase maybe 30cm deep inside there were 3 things a Bordeaux colored tin of the kind in which biscuits were once stored a yellow envelope sealed with sealing wax this is a photograph taken before the photograph
was in black and white worn on the edges it portrayed a woman of about thirty years old in front of that same house he recognized the gate the rose garden the veranda holding a small child in her arms the woman was smiling towards the lens the child was sleeping on the back written in pen ernesta and Giulia summer 1987 giuliano remained still for so long that his knees began to hurt on the cement Giulia 1987 his wife was born in 1984 she would have been 3 years old in the summer of 1987 the little girl in the photo
was sleeping in the arms of a woman called Ernest Colombo the same Ernest Colombo who had lived and died in this house the same house that no one wanted to buy the Hands of Giuliano didn’t tremble it was something he had always had in the worst moments his body would freeze in an unnatural calm it had happened the morning of Giulia’s death it was happening now open the tin box inside there were letters 20 maybe 25 tied with a Bordeaux ribbon of the same color as the box the envelopes were untouched some never opened with the stamp still attached
he took the first one the sender’s address said Giulia Moretti via Tiraboschi 14 Bergamo the recipient’s address ernesta Colombo via Manzoni 14 travagliato b s b s the postmark 12/03/2000 and 9 Giulia Moretti his wife’s maiden name all the letters were from Giulia and none had ever been opened Giuliano didn’t open the letters immediately he put them back in the box the box in the compartment the board above then he went to pick up Sofia from school he made her a snack he helped her with her homework he gave her a bath he
read her half of a book he waited for her to sleep only when the house was quiet he returned to the living room he opened the first letter the handwriting was Giulia’s immediately recognized that capital g with the curl at the bottom the t’s without a cross the vowels open like mouths talking hello Dear Mrs.
Ernesta I know you probably won’t answer you have n’t answered the others but I keep writing to you because I have no one else to write to about this I’m 24 years old My mother told me before she died that she was my grandmother that my biological father was her son that there had been an affair with a girl too young and that the family had decided to make everything disappear me too I don’t want anything from her not money not inheritance I just want to know if it’s true I just want to understand where I come from My name is
Giulia maybe Giuliano already knows he read the letter 3 times then opened the second then the third they were all like this the same request declined in different ways Giulia more formal at the beginning then more desperate then almost resigned the last one was in 2018 2 years before Giulia died I don’t write to you anymore after this I have a small child a life a husband who doesn’t KNOW anything about all this I decided to bury this secret too How did she do it, but I want you to know something.
My daughter’s name is Sofia. I named her that because it means wisdom and because I hoped that one day someone in this family would have the wisdom to tell the truth. Giuliano sat on the concrete floor of the living room until 4 in the morning. His wife had come here in 2010. She had knocked on that door for 20 minutes while Ernesta Colombo was inside and didn’t open it.
She had written for years without receiving a response and then she had decided to pretend that that part of herself didn’t exist except for the name. Sofia had given their daughter the name that was also an impossible promise. Open the yellow envelope with the sealing wax. Inside there was a notarial document dated 2019 signed by Ernesta Colombo.
Giuliano read it only once to understand the whole document. It was a recognition of descent. It’s late. A legally valid notarial document. Ernesta Colombo declared that Giulia Moretti was his biological granddaughter, the daughter of his son Carlo Colombo who died in 1992 in a car accident. He declared that he had received her letters.
He declared that he hadn’t had the courage. to answer for all those years and declared that the house at Via Manzoni 14 upon his death had to be sold at the lowest legally possible price because it had to reach Whoever needed it Whoever, looking for a roof, would also find the truth If Giulia is still alive, give this to her If she isn’t, give everything to Whoever LOVES The notary knew that’s why he had that strange face On the day of the deed Giuliano got up went to the kitchen drank a glass of water Looked out of the window at the garden Black in the night
the rose garden that Sofia was trying to get back on its feet Giulia had died without knowing that her grandmother had changed her mind She died a year after the document without ever receiving a reply Without ever knowing that Ernesta Colombo had found the courage In the end it was too late Giuliano thought of all the Tuesday mornings of their life together with all the coffees drunk in the kitchen All the times Giulia must have carried this weight inside her without telling him anything He wasn’t angry it was something more complicated than anger
He was saddened for her For the 24 year old girl who had written letters to a grandmother who didn’t open The Door for the Woman who had decided to bury everything in order to move forward for the Mother who had given the name of an impossible Hope to her daughter the next morning Giuliano went to the lawyer he had some questions and one in particular did Ernesta Colombo’s document still have legal value even if Giulia was dead yes the lawyer had read the document twice then he had looked up yes the lineage falls on Giulia’s daughter
on Sofia yes Giuliano had felt something shifting inside him like a weight that finally finds the point of balance his daughter had a history she had roots she had a name that her Mother had given her knowing everything but there was still something that didn’t add up so if Ernesta didn’t have the kings of known Who had come to the funeral Who had managed the house for the months between Ernesta’s death and the sale and above all why no one from the municipality seemed to know anything about this document the name came out in a banal way
Giuliano was cleaning the cellar a space that he hadn’t yet touched low with damp walls and rusty shelves when he found a cardboard box with Carlo written on it in black marker Carlo Colombo, the son of Ernesta, Giulia’s biological father, who died in 1992, the document said, but the box contained things that do not belong to a dead person.
Recent photographs, or at least from the 2000s, judging by the quality. 3 newspaper clippings. A black leather phone book. Giuliano opened the phone book. The letter “c” was written in a different handwriting than Ernesta’s. It was larger, more uncertain, like that of an elderly person who had lost his hand. Steady.
Don’t look for it. Verona. Do n’t look for it. But if one day you understand why the number is here below, there was a cell phone number. Carlo Colombo did not die in 1992. Ernesta had declared something false in the notary document, or rather, she had declared what she perhaps believed to be true, or what she had been told.
Hi, if you’re enjoying this story, leave a like and subscribe to our channel. Now let’s continue with the video. He had said, or what he had chosen to believe for years and then discovered differently. Giuliano remained still with the phone book in his hand. This man was Sofia’s biological grandfather, he was Giulia’s father, he was alive and knew nothing about them, so that evening.
After Sofia slept, Giuliano sat at the kitchen table with the phone in front of him and Carlo Colombo’s number on the sheet of paper. Giulia stayed like that for an hour. He thought about Giulia, about what she would have wanted, about the letter from 2018, about the last letter, the one in which she had written that she had decided to bury everything, to move on, but Giulia was no longer there and Sofia was 7 years old and waited for her mother at the window every morning.
Giuliano took the phone and dialed the number. On the third ring, an old, hoarse man’s voice answered, like someone who has smoked all his life or has cried too much. Ready, ready, Giuliano opened his mouth, stopped, then said, my name is Giuliano Ferretti, I bought Ernesta Colombo’s house and I think I have something that belongs to her.
Thank you. On the other end, there was such a long silence that Giuliano thought the man had hung up, then he heard a long, trembling breath. My mother is dead, yes, yes, Giuliano had left something. Yes, he said, Giuliano had left everything. Carlo Colombo arrived on Saturday morning in a silent, gray car that stopped in front of the gate while Giuliano was drinking coffee in the garden.
He was a man of about 65 years old, white hair, straight back, like someone who had worked on his feet all his life. He got out of the car slowly as if every movement cost something. He looked at the house for a long moment, then looked at Giuliano. I lived here until I was 18. He said without saying goodbye. Then my mother kicked me out because I didn’t want to recognize the little girl.
Giuliano didn’t say anything. He waited for Giulia’s mother, her name was Rosa, we were both 17. It was a stupid story, one of those that at 17 seem like the world, and at 30 you don’t remember when Rosa got pregnant. My mother said she had to disappear. Rosa was from a poor family from the south. It was n’t right.
Carlo stopped. He looked at the rose bush that Sofia had replanted with her little hands. Giulia. I didn’t want her to disappear. I wanted to marry her, but I was 17 and my mother had the authority. Rosa went away. I never saw her again. I found out later that Giulia was born and that Rosa had kept her because her mother said she had died in ’92.
Carlo opened his hands in a gesture that was both an explanation and an surrender because in ’92 I cut ties I changed city number surname somehow I didn’t want her to find me after what she had done for her it was probably as if I were dead and when Giulia started writing Carlo shook his head I did n’t know My mother never told me anything about the letters she told me only 3 months before she died on the phone she was crying and stopped again when she spoke again her voice was different lower more broken he told me that Giulia had a daughter
called Sofia looked up at Giuliano Giulia is really dead yes last year yes Carlo Colombo turned towards the gate his shoulders hunched slightly not much just enough to understand that he was holding something very heavy he never knew her he said I did n’t have the courage after the phone call from my mother I waited and then it was too late at that moment The door of the house opened and Sofia came out with her book under her arm in her pajamas her hair disheveled from the morning Sofia stopped on the step looked at that unknown man
Carlo Colombo turned and when he saw Sofia those green eyes that small serious forehead became white as the wall because because Sofia had Giulia’s eyes and Giulia had his eyes Carlo stayed for lunch Sofia studied him all morning with her silent attention she did n’t ask questions she observed Giuliano she knew her well enough to know that she was gathering information around midday while Giuliano was preparing the pasta Sofia approached Carlo who was sitting in the garden and said to him you have the same eyes as your mother
Carlo didn’t answer immediately then said I know you were his friend a pause I was his father Sofia looked at him for a moment then went to sit next to him on the grass without saying anything else Giuliano From the kitchen window he saw everything he lowered his head on the sink and remained there for a moment to breathe after lunch while Sofia slept the nap she still allowed herself on the days when she was tired Carlo took an envelope out of his jacket the notary found this among my mother’s papers after the funeral he
sent it to me without explaining anything I read it but I didn’t understand who to give it to now I understand thanks this was a letter from Giulia not addressed to Ernesta this time addressed to Sofia dated 02/14/2020 6 months before her death as if he had known or foreseen or simply decided to put in order what he could Giuliano read it with hands that were now shaking Sofia My if you are reading this letter it means that I was not able to tell you I in person today ask you forgiveness You have a family that you do not know
your grandmother was called Ernesta and lived in Tragliato in a house with a rose garden she never answered my letters but I understood with time that perhaps she had her reasons as we all do I stopped looking for her not because I did not care but because I was afraid afraid that the answer would be worse than silence but you are braver than me I can see it already now that You are 3 years old and you face the world with that serious face that breaks my heart with tenderness if one day you find yourself in front of that house come in
the story that is inside it belongs to you too I love you mom I love you Giuliano remained silent for a long time Giulia knew she had written this letter knowing that perhaps she would not have made it in time and she had chosen with all the fear that he had that story about not letting his daughter grow up without roots the house was not a coincidence Giulia had died before she could do the right thing but she had left enough for someone else to do it in her place Giuliano took 3 days to decide how to tell Sofia
in the end it was Sofia who saved him from the embarrassment it was Sunday evening they were eating in silence and she had looked up from her plate and said dad that man will come back attack him yes if you want yes then Sofia had started eating again then he is the real mommy’s dad Giuliano had put down the fork as you know the eyes she had said simply they are the same as mommy and also a little my Giuliano 7 years 7 years and she saw what adults took days to process Giuliano had told her everything not the simplified version
not the sweetened one for children the True version adapted to the age but Ve between a grandmother who had been afraid a grandfather who had gone far away a mother who had written letters without a reply and in the end had decided to write down what she couldn’t say then Sofia had listened without interrupting then she had asked did her mother know about this house no yes yes and she left you a letter Giuliano read it to her aloud sitting on the sofa with the lamp on outside the darkness of October that was starting to get long
when it finished Sofia remained silent then she got up went to the window looked at the garden the rose bush that she had replanted with her own hands in the very first days in that new and unknown house without knowing why she did it without knowing Who it had belonged to was there with the branches that were starting to make new buds hi dad said Sofia without turning around can I plant another rose bush a new one that is only mine yes yes said Giuliano and I can invite Carlo to see it when it grows Giuliano’s voice broke for just 1s
then he said of course you can Sofia nodded turned back went back to the sofa reopened her book and said as if she had closed a chapter and was already starting the next one Giuliano looked at her and thought about Giulia how she must have been as a child that same serious forehead those same eyes that saw everything and he felt for the first time in 8 months something that resembled peace not the end of the pain just the end of the impression that the pain was all that remained in spring Via Manzoni 14 was unrecognizable
Giuliano had redone the roof the floorboards the plaster the windows he had painted the walls white with the shutters Dark green that Sofia had chosen from a color sampler looking at everything with the seriousness of an architect the neighbors no longer stood on the sidewalk commenting Renato Bianchi the retired steelworks man had brought a bottle of red wine one Saturday morning and left it on the gate without saying anything but with half a smile that was as good as an apology Carlo Colombo came from Verona once a month he
always brought something for the garden bulbs soil small work gloves for Sofia’s hands the two of them spent the mornings planting things without talking much with that silent communication that sometimes blood builds itself without the need for explanations Giuliano watched them From the kitchen window while he was making coffee he thought of Giulia he thought of her every day but the way he thought had changed he no longer thought only of her absence he thought of her as a whole the 24 year old girl who had written courageous letters
to the Woman who had been afraid to the Mother who had found a way to love her daughter even through secrets one afternoon in April Giuliano had returned to the living room where he had found the space under the boards the floor was now new smooth warm the space was still there he had kept it it had become a sort of family safe with the letters and the photograph inside but he had added something Giulia’s letter to Sofia Ernesta’s document and a new photograph taken at Christmas Sofia and Carlo in the garden in front of the rose garden
she with a red wool hat that covered half her face he who was laughing for the first time since Giuliano had known him on the back of the photograph Giuliano had written Sofia and Carlo winter 2024 like the photo of Ernesta and Giulia like an echo that finally found an answer that evening while he was having dinner with Sofia his daughter had said something that he couldn’t stop thinking for days hello dad grandma ernesta knew you were coming no I don’t know why not because she put that writing on the wall the one that says if you found the house
maybe you’re the right person to find the rest no today Sofia had stirred the spoon in the soup I think she knew I think she was hoping someone like you would come along who is n’t afraid of difficult things Giuliano didn’t say anything he thought about all the steps that had brought them here Giulia’s death the emptied account the cheapest house in the municipality the step that gave way the floorboards the hidden compartment the unopened letters the number at the bottom of the address book he thought that maybe there wasn’t a right way
to lose someone there’s only what you do with what’s left outside Sofia’s rose garden was blooming for the first time small peach-colored wild roses the color that Sofia had chosen herself with that calm confidence she had inherited from a Mother who didn’t remember enough and who nevertheless somehow continued to teach things the neighbors at via Manzoni 14 had remained Astonished when they discovered the truth about the house, not the one they expected, scandals, debts, dark mysteries, they discovered that the cheapest house in the municipality
was actually the richest, not in money, of all the rest. This story is dedicated to those who found a home in a place they did n’t expect and to those who, in the midst of loss, had the courage to look for what was left. If this story touched your heart, write in the comments what you would have done in Giuliano’s place.