Chapter 19: A Small Closer

The sun barely peeked through the mansion's windows, bathing the garden in a soft, warm light. Isabella, still in her robe, silently prepared breakfast for Ethan, lost in her thoughts. What the doctor had told her the night before kept echoing in her mind.

"There’s something you should know... Ethan isn't sick," the doctor had said in a serious tone, though he didn't elaborate. Isabella had tried not to let those words affect her, but now, as she stirred the scrambled eggs in the pan, she couldn't help but feel a growing concern.

Ethan entered the kitchen running, as he always did every morning, with a smile that could light up even the gloomiest days.

—Look, Isabella! —he shouted excitedly, holding a drawing in his small hands—. I made a drawing for you.

As he got closer, Isabella saw the paper full of colors and somewhat messy shapes, but what caught her attention was the scene: a woman with long hair, holding a baby in her arms. Something about that image gave her a tight feeling in her stomach.

—Do you like it? —Ethan asked, his eyes full of expectation.

—It’s... beautiful, darling —she replied, trying to keep her composure—. Who are they?

Ethan looked at her seriously, something unusual for him. He pointed at the woman in the drawing.

—It’s my mom... but I don’t know what she looked like. I just imagine her —he murmured quietly, not taking his eyes off the paper.

Isabella felt a void open up in her chest. Ethan’s words resonated with an intensity she hadn’t expected, bringing a series of blurry memories that she couldn’t quite piece together. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shake off that strange sensation, but a fleeting image of a delivery room appeared in her mind, leaving her confused.

—Let’s have breakfast —she said, trying to push away the thoughts that were starting to overwhelm her—. Then we’ll go to the garden to play, how about that?

Ethan nodded, and they both sat down at the table in a comfortable silence. Isabella tried to focus on the moment, but the fragmented memories and the doctor’s words kept haunting her. Why did she feel such a deep connection to Ethan? Something wasn’t adding up, but she couldn’t figure out what.

After breakfast, they decided to head to the garden, where they set up a small painting set for Ethan to enjoy while Isabella organized the space for play. The energetic boy began painting enthusiastically while Isabella watched him with a nostalgic smile.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. Turning around, she saw Alexander standing a little farther away, watching them with his arms crossed and an expression that was hard to read.

—Are you joining? —Isabella asked with a smile, trying to ease the tension between them.

Alexander hesitated for a moment, but eventually approached. Ethan, upon seeing him, ran toward him happily, showing off his latest masterpiece.

—Look, Dad! I’m painting a landscape.

Alexander smiled slightly, crouching down to see the drawing. But when his eyes met Isabella’s, the atmosphere shifted. It was as if something in her had stirred long-forgotten memories that he couldn’t identify. There was something in her gaze, in the way she moved, that seemed familiar, but he didn’t know why.

—It’s a good drawing, Ethan —he said, patting his son's head.

Suddenly, Isabella tripped over one of the paint buckets, losing her balance. Alexander, quick as ever, grabbed her arm just in time to prevent her from falling.

—Be careful —he warned, his voice softer than usual.

Isabella felt her heart race at the unexpected contact, and for a moment, everything around her seemed to fade. Alexander held onto her just a bit longer than necessary, and when their gazes met again, a spark of recognition flickered in his eyes.

The scent of flowers and paint surrounded them, but something else lingered in the air, a trace of a past they had both forgotten, but now seemed to be returning to their minds in an unsettling way.

—Thank you —Isabella murmured, gently pulling away from his grasp.

Ethan, oblivious to the tension between them, continued painting happily, while Alexander and Isabella exchanged looks filled with unanswered questions.

When Alexander got up to leave, he took one last glance at the garden and paused for a moment. Something in Isabella’s behavior unsettled him.

Back in his office, he took his phone and called his assistant.

—I need an updated report —he said in a grave voice—. On that woman I’m looking for... the one who saved me six years ago. Any news?

The assistant responded nervously:

—No, sir. We haven’t found any trace yet.

Alexander hung up in frustration. The mystery still loomed, and the feeling that something wasn’t right haunted him more and more each day.

Alexander continued staring at the phone for a few moments after hanging up, uneasy. The air of mystery surrounding the woman who had saved him six years ago continued to chase him, and every lead he tried to follow seemed to vanish into thin air. A knot of frustration formed in his chest, but he was determined to get answers, no matter the cost.

Minutes later, his phone rang again. It was his assistant.

—Sir, I’ve found something... —the voice on the other end said hesitantly.

—What do you have? —Alexander responded, standing up from his chair with renewed attention.

The silence on the other end of the line felt like an eternity before the assistant spoke again, in a lower and more serious tone.

—It’s about the woman you were looking for... The one who helped you that night... —the assistant paused before continuing—. She died six years ago in a car accident. She and her parents were the victims.

Alexander felt the air leave the room as if the weight of the news crushed him. He sank back into his chair, stunned.

—Are you sure about that? —he asked in a whisper, as if he still couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

—Yes, sir. I checked several files and police recor

ds. The accident occurred on a road outside the city. There were no survivors.