Echoes of the past

It was almost autumn since I got home, I was exhausted, finally I could finally meet my family and friends it was a long way , life gives you notNicko didn't offer a platitude. He didn't tell her it would be okay. Instead, he took the blue plastic ring—the cheap, fragile thing that had survived the fire, the years, and the lies. ​"Then maybe that’s the real song," he said softly. "The one we heard when we were kids. It wasn't about where we came from. It was about where we were going because we had nowhere to go back to." ​He leaned his forehead against hers. "If we’re both orphans, then we’re the only family we’ve got. And this time, there are no secrets. No hidden deeds. Just the nextNicko didn't offer a platitude. He didn't tell her it would be okay. Instead, he took the blue plastic ring—the cheap, fragile thing that had survived the fire, the years, and the lies. ​"Then maybe that’s the real song," he said softly. "The one we heard when we were kids. It wasn't about where we came from. It was about where we were going because we had nowhere to go back to." ​He leaned his forehead against hers. "If we’re both orphans, then we’re the only family we’ve got. And this time, there are no secrets. No hidden deeds. Just the next that much, I once remember the echoes, the playful sounds I used to hear every time the train crosses a countryside, my hometown, I used to be an orphan, I used to have a friend, we used to play among fields, but time goes by I don't know where she have been, I always wander how is she, does she remember me? , question that keeps bothering my mind, but it was not long ago, I can't believe I'm coming back to meet my parents again but not as they used to, The summer breeze enters my skin as the train passes trough the sea. It was a long day almost there, I'm just glhappy to be alive, soon enough we reach our, destination, I created my family once I got there, and celebrate my grandma's birthday, she's 80 years old, I remember when my mom told me when she passed out, she will hand out her heritage to me, I almost forgot that she owns a land in the country side where I grow up, she's the one who raised me, because of poverty my mom is the only one who is helping us out needs, I never saw my dad since the day I was born but I'm lucky to have wonderful parents who sacrifice her life for me, it was a long story since I meet my one and only friend, I remember when we were just a kid we used to play role wedding, and talk about our future together, Where were you, my long lost friend, I keep on longing as long as I see you, I'm glad that your my friend, I really hope that I could reach you, tell you how I really feel, let's just forget that, it was a wonderful and beautiful day as we celebrate our grandma's birthday it was really a great day Thank you for everything, ​I remember that I wrote a letter for her, but it never reach her: I'm writing this so you would know that wherever you are, I am always watching over you... I know it’s not possible, but... Why am I even writing this!!??? ​She doesn’t even notice me... ​ /The wind suddenly picks up and the paper flies away ​ Oh no!?! ​ ​No!!!!! ​Ahhh, what is this!!! ​She was about to cross the street when the paper flew toward him just as a truck passed by. ​ ​And that’s where it all began. I thought it was the end... but it was only the beginning. My life changed the moment I met him. ​That’s why I decided to write a message on a piece of paper that he would never even get to read... ​/It’s raining ​I hurried to find shelter because I was soaking wet and didn’t have an umbrella. A man approached me. ​a voice whispered in my head. ​"Uhmm, miss, can I share the umbrella?" he asked as he folded his umbrella. ​"The rain is heavy, isn't it?" ​"Yeah." ​I put on my music and glanced at him. ​Our eyes met, and he smiled. ​"Is there something wrong with my face?" ​"Ah, nothing." ​"Ah, okay." ​A few minutes later, the rain stopped. ​I rushed home and started thinking. ​OMG!!!!!!!!! ​What was that guy’s name?? ​Is this a sign????? ​Before anything else, I am Elena ​Elena Magdallena, 26 years old, living in the town of Sto. Domingo. ​And this is my story... ​This is where I thought of writing an important letter... ​To the person I love the most. ​The year was 2005 when we first met. I was a first-year college student back then. ​I was a Nursing student. ​Because it was my dream to treat my grandmother, who was in a serious condition. ​I also saw this as the solution to our poverty. The world is quite playful, isn't it? ​It was seven in the morning and I was already running late when someone suddenly bumped into me. A girl? ​"Excuse me?" ​"I'm sorry, miss." ​"It's o-kay." ​Fast forward ​"Ms. Magdallena, you're late. Get out of my class." ​That was Ms. Donavan. A terror teacher. ​"Yes, ma'am." ​I’m always late; what’s going to happen to my grades?? ​Whatever!! ​What a life!!! ​A few hours passed. ​I fell asleep. ​ ​"Are you okay?" ​"Where am I??" ​"You're on the school campus." ​"What time is it??"Everything began to spin. The yellow glow of the streetlamps blurred into long streaks of light, and my legs felt like lead. Before my knees could hit the cold pavement, I felt a pair of strong arms catch me. ​"Hey, stay with me. Nicko right?" ​My vision was hazy, but I could smell a hint of peppermint and rain. How did he know my name? I tried to push myself up, but my strength was gone. ​"How... how do you know who I am?" I whispered, my voice cracking. ​He didn't answer. Instead, he carefully helped me sit down on a nearby stone bench. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—the same paper the wind had stolen from me earlier that day. ​"You dropped this," he said, his voice low and steady. "I was trying to return it to you this morning, but then the truck... and the chaos... I lost sight of you." ​I froze. That was the letter. The letter where I spilled my heart out. My face flushed hotter than my fever. "Did you... did you read it?" ​He looked away for a second, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. A small, mysterious smile played on his lips. ​"The rain smudged some of the words," he replied, handing the damp paper back to me. "But I read enough to know that you're looking for someone. Maybe you should stop looking so hard, Elena. Sometimes, the person you're watching is already watching you back." ​Before I could ask him what he meant, he stood up and handed me his jacket. ​"It's already 10 PM." ​"10 PM????" ​I hurried to leave. ​But I felt so dizzy... ​"What's happening?" a woman asked. ​are you okay?" ​"Umm..." Everything began to spin. The yellow glow of the streetlamps blurred into long streaks of light, and my legs felt like lead. Before my knees could hit the cold pavement, I felt a pair of strong arms catch me. ​"Hey, stay with me. Elena right?" ​My vision was hazy, but I could smell a hint of peppermint and rain. How did he know my name? I tried to push myself up, but my strength was gone. ​"How... how do you know who I am?" I whispered, my voice cracking. ​He didn't answer. Instead, he carefully helped me sit down on a nearby stone bench. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—the same paper the wind had stolen from me earlier that day. ​"You dropped this," he said, his voice low and steady. "I was trying to return it to you this morning, but then the truck... and the chaos... I lost sight of you." ​I froze. That was the letter. The letter where I spilled my heart out. My face flushed hotter than my fever. "Did you... did you read it?" ​He looked away for a second, the moonlight catching the sharp line of his jaw. A small, mysterious smile played on his lips. ​"The rain smudged some of the words," he replied, handing the damp paper back to me. "But I read enough to know that you're looking for someone. Maybe you should stop looking so hard, Elena. Sometimes, the person you're watching is already watching you back." ​Before I could ask him what he meant, he stood up and handed me his jacket.​ Nicko didn't offer a platitude. He didn't tell her it would be okay. Instead, he took the blue plastic ring—the cheap, fragile thing that had survived the fire, the years, and the lies. ​"Then maybe that’s the real song," he said softly. "The one we heard when we were kids. It wasn't about where we came from. It was about where we were going because we had nowhere to go back to." ​He leaned his forehead against hers. "If we’re both orphans, then we’re the only family we’ve got. And this time, there are no secrets. No hidden deeds. Just the next. Terror, cold and oily, flooded his gut. He didn't want to go to the basement. The basement was where his father had spent his final nights, drinking away the last of the family's dignity before the "accident." ​But the "leverage" Brenda mentioned in her note—the documents to take down the developers—weren't upstairs. If they weren't in the lockbox, and they weren't in her room, they were in the one place Sillas had forbidden himself from entering for years. ​He ran back downstairs, past the slumped figure in the velvet chair. He didn't look at her. He slammed his shoulder against the basement door and lunged into the dark. ​He flicked the light switch. A single, naked bulb hummed to life. ​The basement wasn't a storage room anymore. It was an office. The walls were covered in floor plans, photographs of Sillas at the casino, and transcripts of his private phone calls. Brenda hadn't been "hoarding" money; she had been building a case. Not against the developers. ​Against him. ​And there, sitting on the center of the desk, was a digital recorder. It was already running. The red light blinked like a taunting eye.