CHAPTER TEN -THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
2392 Words
The car continued moving through the darkness.
Neither of us spoke.
The message on my phone seemed to glow brighter with every passing second.
HE KNOWS YOU'VE STARTED REMEMBERING.
I read it again.
Then I looked at Leo.
He was staring straight ahead.
“You knew this would happen.”
His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“I suspected.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have.”
“You said the man in the photograph was someone I thought died nineteen years ago.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Leo remained silent.
“Leo.”
His jaw tightened.
“Not tonight.”
I stared at him.
“You don't get to decide that.”
“I know.”
“Then tell me.”
He glanced at me briefly.
“You're angry.”
“Of course I'm angry.”
“You've just discovered that your entire childhood is built around secrets.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
The honesty in his answer caught me off guard.
“You knew things about me.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough.”
I looked away.
That single word made my stomach twist.
Enough.
Enough to know what happened to me.
Enough to know about my mother.
Enough to know about the man in the photograph.
Enough to follow me to the clinic.
But apparently not enough to tell me the truth.
“Why were you watching me?”
He didn't answer.
“Leo.”
“I wanted to make sure you were safe.”
“That doesn't explain anything.”
“It explains everything.”
“No, it doesn't.”
I turned toward him.
“You've been acting strangely around me for months.”
His eyes remained on the road.
“You notice everything.”
“I notice you.”
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
He went quiet.
So did I.
After a moment, he spoke.
“That's the problem.”
“What?”
“You notice me.”
I frowned.
“I don't understand.”
“You're beginning to notice things you weren't supposed to notice.”
“What things?”
He looked at me.
“The things people do when they think nobody is watching.”
A chill ran through me.
“Like you?”
His expression darkened.
“Maybe.”
I looked away.
Outside, streetlights passed one after another.
The road ahead seemed endless.
Then I noticed something.
A black car.
It was behind us.
I watched it through the side mirror.
“Leo.”
“What?”
“That car.”
He glanced at the mirror.
His expression changed immediately.
“What about it?”
“It's been behind us for a while.”
“I know.”
My heart dropped.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since we left the clinic.”
I stared at him.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't want you to panic.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it's true.”
The black car remained behind us.
Leo suddenly turned onto another road.
The car followed.
My heartbeat quickened.
“It's still following us.”
“I know.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to lose them.”
“Who are they?”
“I don't know.”
“You're lying.”
“I'm not.”
He made another turn.
The black car disappeared.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Leo slowed down.
I looked behind us.
Nothing.
“They're gone.”
“For now.”
“For now?”
He nodded.
“What happens when they come back?”
Leo looked at me.
“Then you stay close to me.”
I frowned.
“Why?”
“Because I won't let anyone touch you.”
There was something in his voice that made me uncomfortable.
Not reassurance.
Possession.
Like he wasn't simply promising to protect me.
Like he was claiming responsibility for me.
I looked out the window.
“I can protect myself.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like I can't.”
“I can't.”
I turned toward him.
“What?”
He kept driving.
“I can't stop worrying about you.”
I said nothing.
His voice became quieter.
“Not anymore.”
---
We eventually reached the house.
The lights were still on.
I stared through the windshield.
“Everyone's awake.”
“Probably.”
“Why?”
Leo didn't answer.
We stepped out of the car.
Before I reached the front door, he caught my wrist.
I immediately pulled away.
“Don't.”
He released me.
“Sorry.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“You're becoming afraid of me.”
I didn't answer.
“Amaria.”
“What?”
“I don't want that.”
“Then stop giving me reasons to be afraid.”
His face tightened.
“I'll try.”
He opened the door.
We entered quietly.
The living room was empty.
But the television was still on.
I looked toward the sofa.
Grandma's shawl was lying there.
“She was here.”
Leo nodded.
“Maybe she went upstairs.”
We started toward the staircase.
Then I heard something.
A faint sound.
From the study.
I stopped.
Leo noticed.
“What?”
“Did you hear that?”
He listened.
Nothing.
“Probably the house.”
“No.”
I looked toward the study.
“Someone is in there.”
Leo stepped in front of me.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Amaria.”
“I want to know what's happening.”
He looked at me for a moment.
Then he walked toward the study.
I followed anyway.
The door was slightly open.
Leo pushed it wider.
The room was empty.
My breathing slowed.
Then I noticed the desk.
Something was different.
The black box I'd found earlier was gone.
I rushed toward it.
“Someone has been here.”
Leo looked at the desk.
“What was there?”
“The box.”
“What box?”
“The one with my mother's letter.”
His expression changed.
“Where is the letter?”
“I don't know.”
We searched the desk.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something on the floor.
A torn piece of paper.
I picked it up.
There was only one sentence.
SHE WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO GROW UP IN THIS HOUSE.
I stared at it.
Leo went completely still.
“You recognize the handwriting.”
He didn't answer.
“Leo.”
He looked at me.
“No.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You're lying.”
He took the paper from me.
Then folded it.
“Forget it.”
I grabbed it back.
“Why?”
“Because it's nothing.”
“Nothing?”
I held it up.
“This is about me.”
“Yes.”
“Then it's not nothing.”
Leo looked away.
I stepped closer.
“Who wrote it?”
“I don't know.”
“Who doesn't want me in this house?”
Silence.
“Leo.”
He finally looked at me.
“I don't know.”
This time, I believed him.
And somehow that frightened me more.
---
I went upstairs.
Leo followed.
At my bedroom door, I stopped.
“Why are you following me?”
“Because I want to make sure you're okay.”
“I am.”
“No, you're not.”
I turned around.
“You don't know that.”
“I do.”
“How?”
“Because I know you.”
I stared at him.
“You don't know me.”
“I know more than you think.”
His words unsettled me.
I opened my door.
Before I could close it, he spoke again.
“Amaria.”
I looked at him.
“Don't go looking for the man in the photograph.”
“Why?”
“Because if he knows you're looking for him…”
He paused.
“What?”
“He'll come looking for you.”
My stomach dropped.
“Maybe that's what I want.”
“No.”
His voice was firm.
“You don't.”
I closed the door.
Locked it.
Then leaned against it.
My hands were shaking.
I didn't know what scared me more.
The man in the photograph.
The secrets my family had buried.
Or the fact that Leo seemed to know far more than he was willing to admit.
I walked toward my desk.
Then I noticed something.
My bedroom window was open.
I was certain I'd closed it.
I approached slowly.
The curtains moved with the night breeze.
I looked outside.
Nothing.
Then I saw something on the windowsill.
A small envelope.
My name was written across it.
AMARIA.
I picked it up.
There was no stamp.
No address.
Someone had placed it there.
I opened it.
Inside was a photograph.
My hands went cold.
It was the same photograph I'd received earlier.
Elena.
Baby me.
The mysterious man.
But this version had something different.
On the back was a date.
October 17, 2012.
Underneath it:
11:47 P.M.
And beneath that:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHAT HAPPENED AT 11:47.
I stared at the words.
Then I heard footsteps outside my room.
I quickly hid the photograph beneath my pillow.
The door handle moved.
I froze.
“Amaria?”
Mom.
I exhaled.
“Come in.”
She opened the door.
She looked tired.
“Why are you still awake?”
“Couldn't sleep.”
She looked at me carefully.
“Where were you tonight?”
My heart skipped.
“Out.”
“With Leo?”
“Yes.”
Her expression changed.
“What did you two do?”
“Nothing.”
She walked farther into the room.
“Amaria.”
“What?”
“You need to stay away from Leo.”
I stared at her.
The words were so unexpected that I couldn't speak.
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because he's becoming too involved in your life.”
I almost laughed.
“That's what you noticed?”
“What does that mean?”
“He's been involved in my life for years.”
Mom looked away.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
She shook her head.
“Not tonight.”
I felt anger rising.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Because some things are better left alone.”
“No.”
My voice became firmer.
“Not anymore.”
She looked at me.
“What are you talking about?”
I reached beneath my pillow.
Then stopped.
Something told me not to show her the photograph.
Not yet.
“I want to know about Elena.”
Mom's face went pale.
“You shouldn't be asking about her.”
“She was my mother.”
“I know.”
“Then why does everyone act like her name is dangerous?”
Mom didn't answer.
“What happened to her?”
“She left.”
“You said she died.”
“I said a lot of things.”
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
Mom's eyes filled with tears.
“It means I made mistakes.”
“What mistakes?”
She turned toward the door.
“Go to sleep, Amaria.”
“Mom.”
She stopped.
“Did Elena leave willingly?”
She didn't turn around.
“Mom?”
A long silence.
Then she whispered:
“No.”
My heart stopped.
She left the room.
I stood there staring at the doorway.
No.
One word.
But it changed everything.
Elena hadn't abandoned me.
Someone had taken her.
And my family had known.
---
I waited until the house was completely quiet.
Then I pulled the photograph from beneath my pillow.
I studied the man's face again.
There was something familiar about him.
Not his face.
Something about the way he stood.
The confidence.
The posture.
The silver pendant around his neck.
I opened my laptop.
I searched through old family photographs.
One after another.
Nothing.
Then I remembered Grandma's room.
She had an old collection of photographs from before I was born.
I slipped out of my room.
The hallway was dark.
I walked quietly toward her door.
It was slightly open.
I pushed it.
Grandma was asleep.
I entered.
Her old photograph albums were stacked inside a cabinet.
I opened the first.
Nothing.
Second.
Nothing.
Third.
My hands stopped.
There he was.
The same man.
But this photograph was older.
Much older.
He was standing beside Grandma.
And beside him was Elena.
I turned the photograph over.
A name was written on the back.
Adrian Vale.
My heart pounded.
Vale.
The same surname as Leo's father.
But there was something written underneath.
Not Daniel's brother.
I stared at the words.
If Adrian wasn't Daniel's brother…
Then who was he?
I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
I turned.
Grandma was awake.
She was staring at the photograph in my hands.
Her face drained of color.
“Where did you get that?”
I couldn't speak.
She stood slowly.
“Amaria…”
“Who is Adrian Vale?”
She closed her eyes.
“Put that photograph down.”
“Who is he?”
“Please.”
“Why was he with my mother?”
She didn't answer.
“Grandma.”
Her hands began trembling.
“You weren't supposed to find that.”
My heart pounded harder.
“Find what?”
She looked at me.
“The truth.”
Then someone knocked on the bedroom door.
Three slow knocks.
Grandma froze.
I turned toward the door.
Another knock.
This time harder.
Grandma whispered:
“Don't open it.”
I stepped backward.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
Then a voice came through the door.
A voice I recognized.
Leo.
“Grandma?”
She looked at me.
Her eyes were filled with fear.
“Don't tell him.”
I stared at her.
“Tell him what?”
She didn't answer.
The door handle began to turn.
I tightened my grip around the photograph.
And suddenly, I understood something.
The secrets in this house weren't buried in the past.
They were still alive.
And someone was desperately trying to keep them buried.
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