ANMELDENROSELINE’S POVMy hands shook as I set the papers down, my heart pounding wildly now as panic began settling in fully. I scrambled quickly out of bed, rushing toward the door, calling out his name into the quiet darkness of the house.“Florian?”No answer came, only silence greeting me as I hurried down the stairs, checking the kitchen, the living room, every room downstairs, my panic growing heavier with each empty space I passed through.“Florian!” I called again, my voice rising now with real fear.I reached the small guest closet near the hallway, and that’s when I noticed it, several of his suitcases missing, a few drawers in the hallway dresser left hanging open, clothes clearly pulled quickly from inside.My breath caught sharply, dread crashing over me now as understanding began settling in. He had packed. He had left.I spotted a small note resting on the kitchen counter, his handwriting rushed, hurried, nothing like his usual careful script.Roseline,I’m sorry. I need some
FLORIAN’S POVThe office became my refuge over the following weeks, though refuge wasn’t quite the right word for it. It was more like a hiding place, somewhere I could bury myself in spreadsheets and meetings and anything else that kept my mind too occupied to circle back toward the guilt steadily eating away at me.I started arriving earlier each morning, staying later each night, filling my calendar with meetings that didn’t really need to happen, reviewing reports that could easily have waited until the following week. Anything to avoid going home to Roseline’s gentle, worried questions I didn’t know how to answer honestly.Gabriel noticed quickly, of course. He always did.“You’ve been here until nearly midnight three nights this week,” he said, stepping into my office one evening, closing the door quietly behind him.“Lot of work to catch up on,” I said, not looking up from the report in front of me.“Florian,” Gabriel said, his voice firm enough that I finally glanced up. “This
FLORIAN’S POVWe drove home mostly in silence that evening, Roseline resting her head lightly against the window, her eyes closed, exhaustion finally catching up with her after everything Clara had shared with us. I kept my eyes on the road, though my mind stayed fixed elsewhere entirely, replaying every word Clara had spoken over and over.She heard a child crying. She didn’t hesitate.I thought about Roseline’s mother running back into that fire, not once, but twice, and each time the image played through my mind, guilt twisted a little deeper into my chest.That night, after Roseline had gone to bed, I sat alone in the living room, staring blankly at nothing in particular, the weight of everything Clara had told us pressing down heavier with every passing minute.If she hadn’t come back for me, Roseline would still have her mother.The thought settled uncomfortably, refusing to leave no matter how hard I tried to push it away. I thought about Roseline growing up without her mother’
ROSELINE’S POVClara got up slowly and moved toward a small cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out an old shoebox covered in dust. She carried it back carefully and set it on her lap.“I kept a few things,” she said quietly. “From back then. I never really knew why. I guess some part of me needed to hold onto it.”She lifted the lid and sorted through a few faded photographs before pulling one out and handing it to me. It showed the restaurant, warm light spilling out from its windows, a small group of staff standing out front, smiling for the camera.“That’s her,” Clara said gently, pointing to a woman standing near the edge of the group. “Eleanor. She used to come by sometimes, even though she didn’t work there. She was close with a few of the staff.”I stared at the photograph, my mother’s face young and full of life, nothing like the vague, faded memories I carried of her. “She looks happy,” I said softly.“She was,” Clara said. “Always laughing about something. She used t
FLORIAN’S POVI knocked on the door and waited, Roseline standing close beside me, her hand still holding mine. A minute passed before I heard footsteps shuffling slowly on the other side.The door opened, and an elderly woman peered out at us, small glasses perched on her nose, gray hair pulled back neatly. She looked at Roseline first, polite but distant, the way you’d look at any stranger. Then her eyes moved to me.She froze.Her hand came up to her mouth, and for a second she just stared, like she’d seen something she wasn’t ready for.“It’s you,” she whispered.“I’m sorry?” I said carefully.“You look just like him,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “Your father. God, it’s like looking right at him.”I glanced at Roseline, unsure what to say. “My name is Florian Hollis,” I said gently. “I think you might have known my parents.”The woman nodded slowly, still staring at me like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “Clara,” she said. “Clara Simmons. Please, come in
FLORIAN’S POVWe stayed on the study floor for a while after reading the letter. Neither of us said much at first. Roseline just held the envelope, running her thumb along the edge like it might tell her something the words hadn’t already said.“Do you think we should actually go?” I asked finally.She looked up at me. “You don’t want to?”“I don’t know what I want,” I admitted. “We just got back to something that feels normal again. What if this ruins it?”“How would finding out the truth ruin anything?”“What if this Clara woman doesn’t remember anything? Or what if she tells me something I don’t want to hear?”Roseline was quiet for a second. Then she reached over and took my hand. “Florian, you’ve been looking for this woman for years. You told me that yourself. This might be the only real chance you ever get.”“I know,” I said. “That’s what scares me.”“Talk to me,” she said softly. “What are you actually scared of?”I let out a breath. “I don’t know. Maybe that she’ll tell me so







