Chapter3 : The Call
1544 Words
Chapter 3: The Call
The door opened slowly.
My mother stood between me and the entrance as though she believed her body could keep the past from walking into our house. I could barely hear myself think over the pounding in my chest.
A man stepped inside.
He was older than Daniel, perhaps in his forties, dressed in a dark coat that looked almost untouched by the rain. Water gathered at the ends of his hair, but his expression remained calm. His eyes moved from my mother to me before settling on the photograph lying on the table.
He smiled without warmth.
“You still have it.”
My mother's fingers tightened around the edge of the door.
“You shouldn't be here.”
“I could say the same about you.”
I looked between them, desperate for someone to explain what was happening.
“Mom, who is he?”
The man answered before she could.
“My name is Marcus.”
The name meant nothing to me.
But my mother reacted as though it should have.
“Marcus,” she repeated quietly.
He looked at me again.
“So you really don't remember.”
A cold feeling settled inside me.
“Remember what?”
My mother stepped closer.
“Amara, go upstairs.”
“No.”
She looked at me, surprised.
“I have spent my whole life being told that I'm being protected,” I said. “I don't want another secret. I want the truth.”
Marcus remained silent for a moment.
Then he reached inside his coat.
My mother immediately moved in front of me.
“Don't.”
Marcus slowly removed an old photograph and placed it on the table.
“You deserve to see this.”
I picked it up.
The photograph showed the same old house my father had mentioned.
Daniel stood near the front steps.
Beside him was the man with the silver ring.
And between them stood a little girl.
I recognized myself.
But there was something else.
I was holding the girl's hand.
She looked about six years old, with two small braids and a yellow dress.
I had never seen her before.
“Who is she?” I asked.
Marcus looked at my mother.
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“Her name was Lena.”
The name struck me with a strange force.
For a second, the room disappeared.
I saw a flash of yellow.
A child's laughter.
A small hand wrapped around mine.
Then darkness.
The photograph slipped from my fingers, but my mother caught my arm before I could lose my balance.
“Amara?”
I pulled myself away from her, frightened by the memory that had appeared and vanished before I could hold onto it.
“Why did I see her?”
Marcus's expression became serious.
“Because somewhere inside you, you remember.”
My mother shook her head.
“Marcus, stop.”
“You cannot keep doing this to her.”
“You don't know what you're talking about.”
“I know exactly what happened.”
My heart was racing.
“Then tell me.”
My mother looked at me.
There was so much pain in her expression that my anger weakened for a moment.
“You had a sister,” she whispered.
The room became completely silent.
“A sister?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Lena was your younger sister.”
I couldn't speak.
The photograph lay between us like evidence from another life.
“Why don't I remember her?”
My mother wiped her face.
“After she disappeared, you stopped talking about her.”
“Disappeared?”
She nodded.
“What happened to her?”
“We never found her.”
Something inside me seemed to c***k.
All those years, I had believed I was an only child. I had grown up surrounded by family photographs, birthdays, school events and ordinary memories, yet somehow an entire person had been removed from my history.
“How old was I?”
“Eight.”
“And Lena?”
“Six.”
I looked at Marcus.
“You knew her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
He glanced toward the photograph.
“Your family and mine were connected long before you understood what that meant.”
My thoughts immediately returned to Daniel.
“Did Daniel know about Lena?”
Marcus didn't answer.
That silence was enough.
“He knew,” I said.
My mother looked away.
I felt betrayed all over again.
Daniel had returned carrying a letter I supposedly wrote. He had warned me about my father. He had spoken about secrets, danger and the silver ring.
And now I was discovering that he had known about a sister I didn't even remember.
My phone vibrated.
I pulled it from my pocket.
A message from Daniel.
Don't trust the man at your house.
My fingers went cold.
Another message arrived.
Marcus is not there to help you.
I looked up.
Marcus was watching me.
He seemed to know exactly who had sent the messages.
“Daniel,” I said.
Marcus's expression changed.
“You spoke to him?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Last night.”
He looked genuinely surprised.
“Then he came back too soon.”
My mother stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus ignored her.
He walked toward the photograph.
“Daniel was supposed to stay away until you remembered enough.”
“Remembered enough for what?”
“For the truth.”
My mother stepped forward.
“You promised.”
Marcus looked at her.
“So did your husband.”
The words made my mother freeze.
“My father?”
Marcus nodded.
“He promised Lena would remain hidden.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“Remain hidden?”
Marcus looked directly at me.
“Yes.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Lena is alive.”
For several seconds, I couldn't understand the words.
I searched his face, waiting for him to take them back.
He didn't.
My mother covered her mouth.
“She has been alive this entire time,” Marcus continued.
My knees weakened, and I reached for the table.
“No.”
“Amara,” my mother whispered.
“You told me she disappeared.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“You told me she was gone.”
My voice broke.
“You let me grow up thinking I never had a sister.”
My mother began crying.
I wanted to be angry with her. I was angry with her. But seeing the tears running down her face made that anger collide with something heavier.
Grief.
Not because Lena was dead.
Because I had lost years with someone who was still alive.
“Where is she?”
Marcus didn't answer.
“Where is my sister?”
Before he could speak, footsteps sounded outside.
Everyone became silent.
My mother turned toward the door.
Marcus reached for the photograph.
The footsteps stopped.
Then a familiar voice came from the hallway.
“Amara?”
My father's voice.
Relief should have been the first thing I felt.
Instead, fear settled over me.
My father entered the room and stopped when he saw Marcus.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then my father looked at the photograph in my hand.
His face lost all colour.
“You shouldn't have told her,” he said.
Marcus's voice remained calm.
“She had a right to know.”
My father looked at me.
“Amara, give me the photograph.”
I held it tighter.
“No.”
His expression changed.
“Please.”
“Tell me the truth.”
“I am trying to.”
“Then start with Lena.”
My father closed his eyes.
When he opened them, there was something in them I had never seen before.
Regret.
“I thought keeping her away from you would keep you safe.”
My mother's crying stopped.
Marcus looked toward him.
“You know that isn't true.”
My father ignored him.
“After Lena disappeared, people started looking for her. They believed she knew something about the company, about the people involved with us. They believed you knew too.”
“I was eight.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you make me forget?”
He didn't answer.
I stepped closer.
“Did you make me forget?”
My father's silence was devastating.
“No,” he finally said. “But I allowed everyone around you to pretend she never existed.”
My eyes filled with tears.
“Why?”
“Because someone threatened to take you too.”
The room became painfully quiet.
I thought about Daniel's warning.
I thought about the silver ring.
I thought about the little girl in the yellow dress.
Then my phone vibrated again.
I looked down.
This time, the message wasn't from Daniel.
It was from an unknown number.
You remembered Lena.
A second message appeared.
Now ask your father what happened the night she disappeared.
I slowly raised my eyes.
My father was already looking at my phone.
And from the expression on his face, I knew the answer was something he had spent years praying I would never ask.
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