Or so she had thought.
"Official procedure," Lira said, her voice firmer than she felt, "requires a court order. Without an entry, you don't exist. You can't vote, marry, or get a passport." regjistri gjendjes civile 2018
Lira almost laughed. "Impossible. Every birth, death, marriage—it’s all here." She tapped the ledger. "The gjendje civile doesn't lie." Or so she had thought
She understood now why Zef had been so well-paid. And why, for six years, no one had dared reopen the 2018 registry. You can't vote, marry, or get a passport
That night, she stayed late. She carried the heavy ledger to her desk and turned to April 13, 2018. The births for Durrës were listed in neat, chronological order—all but one. There was a gap between entry #418 and #419, a suspiciously clean space where a line had been erased before the ink dried.
The next morning, Lira called Arjeta. "Come back at noon," she said.