What Happened Before

Chapter One The Girl Who Had No Past The rain had been falling over Toronto since late afternoon. By nine o'clock, it had settled into a steady fall drizzle, fine enough to look almost like mist beneath the streetlights. The sidewalks shone like dark glass. Cars moved slowly along the wet road, their headlights stretching into long, trembling reflections across the pavement. Lidya stood beneath the narrow awning of a café, holding a paper cup of coffee between both hands. She wasn't cold. Not exactly. But the damp November air had found its way through her coat, and she pulled the collar closer around her neck. Across the street, people hurried beneath umbrellas. A man in a navy suit ran toward a waiting streetcar. Two university students laughed as they shared a broken umbrella that was doing almost nothing to keep them dry. An elderly woman walked carefully along the sidewalk, holding a small plastic bag against her chest. Lidya watched them for a moment. She had always liked watching people. Maybe that was because she had spent so much of her childhood wondering about them. Where did they come from? Who were they going home to? Who was waiting for them? She took a sip of her coffee. It was already getting cold. Her phone buzzed. Hanna: Where are you? Lidya smiled. Lidya: Outside. Hanna: Outside where? Lidya: Outside the café. Hanna: There are three cafés on that street. Lidya looked up at the sign above her. "Mosaic Café." She typed the name. A few seconds later, Hanna appeared from around the corner, holding a large black umbrella over her head. "You are impossible," Hanna said as she approached. Lidya laughed. "You found me." "I almost called the police." "You would have been very disappointed." Hanna folded her umbrella and shook the rain from it. She was wearing a long camel-coloured coat and ankle boots, her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail. "You look exhausted." "I am exhausted." "How much did you sleep?" "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to." Hanna rolled her eyes. "You have to stop working like this." Lidya shrugged. "I have a deadline." "You always have a deadline." "That's because I have a job." "And I have a job." "Your job doesn't involve correcting the same sentence twelve times." "That's because I'm smarter." Lidya laughed again. For a few minutes, everything felt ordinary. The rain. The coffee. Her friend's teasing. The noise of the city. She liked ordinary. Ordinary was safe. Lidya had spent most of her life building an ordinary life for herself. She had no family name to inherit. No family home to return to. No grandmother taking her to church. No father who might call to ask whether she had eaten. No mother whose voice she could remember. There was only Lidya. And, for most of her life, she had decided that was enough. "By the way," Hanna said, "I have something to tell you." Lidya narrowed her eyes. "That sounds dangerous." "It isn't." "Then why do you look so excited?" Hanna leaned closer. "Henon Gebrehiwot is going to be at the event tomorrow." Lidya stared at her. "Who?" Hanna's mouth fell open. "You know exactly who." "I don't." "Lidya." "What?" "Henon." "I know a lot of Henons." "Not like this one." Hanna pulled out her phone and showed her a photograph. Lidya glanced at the screen. A man stood in front of a modern glass building, surrounded by photographers and several business executives. He was tall. Broad-shouldered. His black suit fit perfectly, but there was nothing flashy about him. His expression was serious, almost distant. His dark hair was neatly trimmed, and his face carried the kind of confidence that didn't need to announce itself. Lidya looked away. "Okay." "Okay?" "He's handsome." Hanna smiled triumphantly. "I knew it." "But that doesn't mean anything." "He is thirty-one, unmarried, incredibly wealthy, educated in London and Geneva, and his family owns businesses in three countries." Lidya looked at her. "How do you know all that?" "I have the internet." "You have too much free time." "And tomorrow you are coming with me." "No." "Yes." "I have work." "You can work after." "I have a presentation." "You can finish it tonight." Lidya gave her a look. Hanna sighed. "Fine. Finish your presentation. Then come." Lidya smiled. "We'll see." They continued talking as they walked down the street. Neither of them noticed the black sedan parked across the road. Inside the car, a man sat quietly behind the steering wheel. He watched Lidya until she disappeared around the corner. Then he looked down at the photograph resting on the passenger seat. It was old. Very old. The edges were worn and the paper had begun to yellow. A young woman stood in the photograph. She was beautiful. Her eyes were bright. Her hair fell loosely around her shoulders. She was smiling at someone outside the frame. The man looked at the photograph for a long time. Then he whispered a name. "Mahi." He placed the photograph back inside the envelope. His hands trembled slightly. He had been looking for the right moment for years. Perhaps there was no right moment. Perhaps there never had been. He started the engine. The sedan disappeared into the rain. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Later that night, Lidya sat alone in her apartment. The city outside her window had become quieter. Rain tapped softly against the glass. Her laptop illuminated the small living room with a pale blue glow. On the table beside her were three books, a half-finished cup of tea and a notebook filled with handwritten reminders. One of the books is a copy of The Last Season by Tariku Wondafrash, one of Lidya's favourite writers. The book was already worn from being read multiple times. Her phone vibrated. She assumed it was Hanna. Top of Form Bottom of Form It wasn't. The number wasn’t saved in her contacts. She opened the message. There was no greeting. No name. Only one sentence. I know what happened to your parents.