Chapter 29 Shadows of the Past
"What do you mean?" Aveline asked, confused. Adrian's words fell like a heavy stone onto her chest.
"I’ve suspected this from the start. You’ve been overreacting since the first time you saw him. It wasn't jealousy. It was… fear. As if you were seeing a ghost from the past," Aveline stared at him directly. "Don't lie to me anymore, Adrian. I’m far too exhausted."
Adrian let out a long sigh. "I’m not lying to you, Aveline," he whispered in a low but pressured voice.
"Ezra was the young man who pursued Selina," Adrian continued, his voice cold. "They were too close, too intense. Everyone knew it."
Aveline shook her head slightly. "Professor Barbara said there was no evidence of that."
"Because everything was covered up," Adrian cut her off quickly. "The university didn't want a scandal. Especially not one involving a talented young lecturer who died mysteriously."
Aveline swallowed hard. "So you mean, Ezra is the prime suspect?"
"Yes," Adrian answered without hesitation. "He was the last person seen with Selina the night before she died."
The room felt like it was closing in. Aveline felt a slight dizziness.
"Ezra said he was framed," she said softly. "He said… what happened wasn't what it seemed."
"Of course he would say that," Adrian said cynically. "People like him are experts at playing the victim."
Aveline glared at Adrian. "People like him?"
Adrian was silent for a moment, then said, "Ezra is manipulative. Smart. He knows how to make people, especially women, feel understood."
Those words felt like a slap in the face.
"You talk as if you know him very well," Aveline said, her voice trembling. "More than you're willing to admit."
Adrian turned his face away. "I know enough to warn you to stay away from him."
"Why?" Aveline pressed. "Because you care about me… or because you’re afraid another lie might be uncovered?"
Adrian's gaze turned sharp again. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Silence.
Aveline shook her head. "No! I’m sick of these fragments of the truth. You say Ezra is dangerous, but you yourself lied to me. You said you weren't conscious with Joanna, yet there was lipstick on your shirt. You say you want to make peace, but you keep hiding things!"
"Are you defending him?" Adrian’s voice rose. "After everything I’ve told you?"
"I’m not defending anyone!" Aveline screamed, her tears beginning to fall. "I just want to know who is being honest with me. You or him."
Adrian stared at Aveline for a long time. His face was stern, but his eyes held a fear he couldn't entirely hide.
"Trust me," he finally said. "Ezra is not a good kid. Selina is dead, and he was around her. That’s a fact."
"I don't know anymore, Adrian..." Aveline whispered.
Adrian didn't answer. He simply moved closer and hugged Aveline tightly. "I’m sorry. We shouldn't be discussing this. I just want us to make up, Ave. I’m tired of living like this."
Aveline was silent in Adrian’s embrace. His words spun in her head, mingling with Ezra’s calm gaze… too calm… as if hiding an unexplainable depth.
The Ezra who said he could see Aveline’s wounds, even when she tried to hide them. The Ezra who had painted her soul without permission. The Ezra who always appeared exactly when Aveline felt most alone.
And Adrian, the husband she once loved with all her heart, now stood as a guardian of secrets he refused to reveal.
For the first time, Aveline realized something that sent a chill down her spine.
Perhaps it wasn't just Ezra who was dangerous. Perhaps the truth itself was far more perilous. And perhaps… the person she most wanted to trust was the person she feared the most.
Night fell slowly over the small apartment.
The kitchen light glowed dimly, reflecting the shadows of two figures sitting opposite each other at the dining table. Simple plates were served with warm soup, rice, and stir-fried vegetables that Martha had cooked using an old recipe she’d made since Ezra was a child. The aroma of home, an aroma that should have been comforting.
But not tonight.
Ezra ate in silence. The fork in his hand moved slowly, almost without appetite. His eyes were vacant, his mind far away. Martha watched him from across the table, sensing that something had been wrong since Ezra returned this afternoon. The silence was too heavy for a young man who was usually quiet but full of life.
"Are you sick again?" Martha finally asked, trying to sound casual.
Ezra shook his head. "No."
"University trouble?"
Ezra shook his head again. He put down his fork, staring at his unfinished plate. His chest rose and fell, as if he were bracing himself for something heavy.
"Auntie," he said softly.
That tone made Martha tense up. Ezra rarely addressed her like that, with a voice like that.
"What is it?"
Ezra lifted his gaze. His look was direct and calm, but there was something dark within it. Something he had suppressed for far too long.
"My biological father… who is he, really?"
The spoon Martha was holding clinked softly against the plate. A small sound, but enough to shatter the air.
"What?" Martha laughed briefly, too quickly. "Why ask that all of a sudden?"
"Because I’m an adult," Ezra replied without emotion. "And because everyone around me keeps keeping secrets as if I’m a child who needs to be protected from the truth."
Martha stood up, taking Ezra’s unfinished plate. "You don't need to know about him."
Ezra stood up too. "Why?"
"Because he isn't important," Martha said firmly. "He was never in your life."
Ezra gave a thin smile. A smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Or is it because he is someone I’m never supposed to mention?"
Martha stopped. Her back was stiff.
"Ezra," she said, her voice lower this time. "Listen to me. Your father was just someone from your mother’s past. A painful past. Nothing good comes from bringing it up again."
"Mother died because of that past, didn't she?" Ezra stared at her intensely.
Martha turned around quickly. "Don't..."
"Don't what?" Ezra interrupted. "Don't connect the dots? Don't ask why Mother was destroyed, why she lived alone, or why she cried every night before she finally… left?"
Ezra paused for a moment. His breath was ragged, and his eyes flashed with anger. "Or don't ask why I was the one framed as the cause of death for the woman who was, in fact, my own mother?"
Martha closed her eyes. Her breath hitched.
"You don't know anything," she said faintly.
"That’s exactly the problem," Ezra said. "I feel it, a huge hole in my life named 'Father.'"