STRINGS OF THE PAST (A Song we will play)

CHAPTER 4

CATHERINA’S POV

I can't remember exactly when everything changed. Harvard was supposed to be my safe haven—long nights in the library, the thrill of learning, and the satisfaction of finally shaping my future in law. I assumed I was safe from the shadows that haunted Bruno's life.

But Junior Cortez discovered me. The son of Rafael Cortez, a man whose legacy had already stolen everything from Bruno, he was not only clever but also dangerous. I trusted people too easily. I believed in appearances. And that mistake nearly cost me everything.

The accident was not accidental.

I recall the night vaguely: laughter, music, the smell of rain on campus, and a sense of calm I hadn't experienced in months. I was returning from a coursemate's party, sitting next to Junior Cortez, who insisted on driving me home.

He wasn't just polite; he was possessive and charming in a way that disguised something dark. And that night, I realized he was dangerous.

Doctors told me it was just temporary amnesia, but some days I feared the worst: that my memories of him, of us, had been erased forever.

Bruno Sanchez my true love, floated on the edges of my mind. A melody here and a laugh there... Hints of something I couldn't quite grasp.

Despite the gaps in my memory, my heart remembered. I felt a gravitational pull toward him, which I couldn't explain.

Junior believed he had broken me.

All he had done was conceal the truth.

And I knew deep down that love, the kind of love that endures through betrayal, tragedy, and storms, never really dies.

Tracy Rodriguez was madly in love with my man. When I caught them in bed together, I assumed it was real. Coupled with the pregnancy. I had choosen a $5 million offer and private house in Miami from Tracy; after all, women should support other women. Oh, don't judge me; I was devastated that Bruno could have hurt me so badly.

Even with the pieces missing, I could still hear Bruno’s love calling me home.

“I missed the old times, when love was young and less complicated ”

***

That night, the garden behind the Sanchez estate was calm, with a pleasant wind blowing through.

Bruno sat on a stone seat at the far end of the garden. Gloria lay in his lap, her polished figure shining faintly in the lantern light. His fingers hovered on the strings, trembling slightly, although the tremor was not caused by the guitar. Each note he plucked trembled, as if bearing the weight of his heart.

Catherina stood a few paces away. Her arms were tightly wrapped across her chest, more for defense than comfort. She'd seen Bruno's expression before: uncertain, raw, on the verge of something he couldn't contain. And she knew what was coming, even before he took in a breath and let his voice flood into the darkness.

"Catherina… His tone was low and shaky, but each sentence was etched with conviction. "We've gone through everything together. Laughter, pain, and quiet. You've been more than a friend; you've been my anchor." Bruno reiterated.

His thumb stroked across the strings, evoking the lullaby they had composed together as children, their tiny anthem of innocence. The sound floated between them, faint and almost mournful.

"I have always loved you, Cat. Will you become my girlfriend?" Bruno finally addressed the fundamental question.

For a brief moment, her breath caught. He saw it in her lips, in the way they trembled before parting, like if a "yes" hung on the verge. His heart lurched, preparing to plunge into her response.

But stillness came first. Silence, followed by a shattering response.

She moved closer, her eyes hazy in the lantern light. "I like you, Bruno. Perhaps more than I should. But…She hesitated, and the hesitation cut him more deeply than any rejection could. I can't say yes. Not now." She finally gave her reply.

The wind shifted, carrying her words through the garden like broken glass. Bruno's hands tightened around Gloria, and her polished wood became terribly heavy.

Bruno questioned , "Why not?" His voice broke, thin, and pained. "If you feel the same way, then what's stopping us?"

Catherina's eyes softened, filled with the same sorrow that burned within him. "Because if we try it now and fail, we'll lose everything. And you are my best friend, Bruno. If we fall apart, I'll lose you. I can't risk that." She replied.

She stretched out to take his hand, her palm warm and shaking against his as she said;

She bit her lip, then continued with a resolve he both admired and hated in that moment. “Bruno, let me graduate. Let me finish law school. Let me find myself first. If you’re still there at the end… then maybe we’ll be ready.”

Bruno wanted to argue, to shout that love was worth every danger, and that waiting simply gave the world more reasons to separate them. But the expression in her eyes held him still; it was a delicate balance of love and dread. If he pushed any more, he might break the same thing he was attempting to cling onto.

So he merely nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from speaking.

"Promise me," she said, her eyes locked on his, desperate and vulnerable. "Promise you will wait. Promise you will not give up on us."

It was both the easiest and the most difficult vow he'd ever made. "I promise," he whispered, despite the fact that his heart was already concerned about the fragility of promises.

Catherina smiled slightly. But Bruno saw something else behind it. It wasn't certainty, but terror. As if she already knew that the response she couldn't provide would eventually unravel them.

When he finally left the garden, another weight burned in his pocket: a folded note, anonymous and foreboding, its words scorched into his head.

“You’re not who you think you are”.

The streets were nearly vacant, with a deep silence that made Bruno's footfall sound like drumbeats. He tightened his jacket and used the old market alley as a shortcut home.

But the words from the note, from Catherina, from his own mouth, wouldn’t stop replaying.

“Not now… not yet… You’re not who you think you are…”

He hummed softly to distract himself from the thoughts as he adjusted Gloria's strap over his back. Then he heard them—two sharp, low voices slithering from the alley's mouth up ahead.

One said, with a heavy accent and a gritty tone, "Rafael might be gone. But his people aren’t finished,”

The second answered. His voice seemed sharper and colder, as though it had been formed out of ice. “Next up is the boy. The Sanchez child. The cost of the father's treachery falls on the son”.

Bruno stopped. In his veins, his blood turned to ice. Even though they hadn't said his name, each phrase was like a blade piercing his chest.

The first man spat on the cobblestones. "The orders are clear; make it clean. Quick. Like an elderly man's car crash."

The realization struck like lightning, electrifying every neuron in his body. His chest tightened and he breathed shallowly. He leaned up against the moist brick wall, hoping the darkness would take him whole.

But then calamity struck. His guitar case scratched against a loose tin sheet lying against a wall. The screech was loud, harsh, and undeniable.

“Did you hear that?” One of the men said.

Their footsteps shifted, quick and eager.

Panic surged through Bruno. He ran.

The passageway transformed into a maze of darkness. Bruno rushed, lungs burning and shoes slipping on the slick cobblestones. Curses rang out behind him.

A silver flash flew by his cheek; one of them had thrown a knife. It clattered on the wall where his shoulder had been a heartbeat ago.

“Get him!”, He screamed.

The second man lunged from the side. A blade slashed over Bruno's arm, cutting deep. White-hot anguish ripped through his sleeve. He staggered, clutching Gloria for stability as blood dripped into his palm.

Fear erupted into wrath. Angry by his father's disinformation. At the silence. At the men who sought to eliminate him.

He snarled and swung Gloria's hard case like a club. It struck the thug's arm with a terrible c***k. The knife flew from his grasp, clattering to the ground.

The second man came at him, heavier and faster. Bruno ducked, his instincts screaming in dread. He swung again, this time with his whole vigor. The case shattered into the thug's ribcage. He collapsed with a wheeze, breathing on the pavement.

Bruno stood over them, his chest heaving, his bleeding arm screaming in agony. He was not a warrior. He'd never been. But tonight, survival had given him no option.

He backed forward one hesitant step at a time, till the shadows engulfed the soldiers behind him. His whisper echoed across the darkness.

“This is only the beginning”, Bruno said in a vengeful tone.

Meanwhile, across town, the night was becoming very dark.

Catherina hurried rapidly down the road from their high school library, her knapsack heavy down with books. She remained up late studying for her examinations. The corridors were virtually empty, with the janitor humming as he swept and the fluorescent lights flashing above.

Now the streets were too quiet. The lamps flickered, creating fractured halos of light. She held her luggage closer, thinking of Bruno and wishing she hadn't turned down his offer to walk her home.

The screech of tires interrupted the silence. A dark van skidded to a halt alongside her.

Two masked men jumped out before she could shout. One placed a gloved palm over her mouth, while the other snatched her books and threw them on the ground. Pages littered the pavement like frantic birds.

“Quiet,” a voice hissed. “We just need you to send a message.”

They packed her into the van, the smell of gasoline and sweat stifling. The rope bit at her wrists when they tied her. Fear clutched at her ribs, but beneath it was determination.

At the warehouse, she was shackled to a chair beneath a single swaying light. One leaned in, his breath foul. "Sit tight, Princess. Your little boyfriend will be running here soon enough." He said.

But Catherina was not waiting to be rescued. Her gaze flickered, scanning. Her gaze spotted a corroded blade among old equipment. She pushed the rope against its sharp edge, wrists sore and bleeding, until it snapped.

The ropes gave way.

When one guy turned his back, she sprung. She threw the loose rope at his face and kicked him straight in the knee. He howled and collapsed. She ran through the side door, her legs wobbly but driven by sheer determination.

The cold night air stung her lungs like fire as she ran. The familiar brightness of the high school buildings loomed in the distance, providing her salvation. She stumbled to the nearest wall and slumped, tears streaming down her cheeks.

With her hands shaking she brought out her phone as soon as she reached home and dialed.

"Bruno…" her voice broke with relief and terror. "They took me. I believe it was Rafael's guys. I escaped, but they said they were coming after you." She said.

Bruno's voice, on the other end, was calm yet full of steel, which she had never heard before. "Do not worry, Cat. I will not let them touch you again. Please stay safe. Leave the rest to me”, he said.

Bruno focused on the night sky as he hung up the phone, blood still trickling from his arm.

He knew with horrifying certainty that the storm was no longer approaching. It was here.