CHAPTER 10

Clara kept staring at the photo, her eyes moving between Daniel's face and the girl standing beside him.

Maria.

Her sister.

The same sister whose disappearance had left a wound in Clara's heart that had never truly healed.

Why was Daniel standing next to Maria in that photo?

And more importantly, what was their connection?

Clara brought the photo closer to her face, examining every little detail as though she might discover an answer hidden somewhere in the background. Daniel looked younger, but there was no mistaking him. His eyes, his nose, the shape of his face—it was undoubtedly him.

Maria, whose face showed only half, but Clara couldn't forget that bright smile that Maria always wore.

A smile that had disappeared from their lives years ago.

Clara's fingers tightened around the phone.

Could Daniel have been connected to Maria's disappearance?

The thought sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine.

For years, Clara had tried to convince herself that Maria had simply left home. Perhaps she had grown tired of their family, perhaps she had wanted a different life, or perhaps something had happened that made her believe leaving without a word was the only option.

Those were the explanations Clara had repeated to herself whenever the memories became too painful.

But now, staring at the photo, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Maria had never been just another sister to her.

Although Clara had other siblings, Maria had always occupied a special place in her heart. They were practically inseparable. They shared everything, from their clothes and secrets to their dreams for the future. They slept in the same bed, sang together late into the night, and laughed over the smallest things.

Whenever one of them got into trouble, the other was usually involved.

People who knew their family often referred to them as twins, even though they weren't.

They had been that close.

Maria was the first person Clara ran to whenever something good happened, and the only person who could make her laugh when she felt like crying.

And then, one ordinary Saturday, Maria vanished.

No goodbye.

No explanation.

No trace.

Clara swallowed the lump in her throat as old memories began flooding her mind. She could almost hear Maria's laughter, see her mischievous smile, and feel the warmth of her sister lying beside her in bed.

For years, Clara had buried those memories beneath the demands of school, the expectations of her mother, and the struggles of growing up.

She had convinced herself that remembering Maria too often would only make the pain worse.

But the photo had changed everything.

For the first time since after the disappearance of maria, Clara began to wonder whether the story she had told herself was nothing more than a lie she had desperately needed to believe.

She lowered her gaze to the photo.

"Where did you go, Maria?" she whispered.

Her voice trembled.

"And what does Daniel have to do with you?"

The room seemed unusually quiet as Clara stared at her sister's smiling face.

Then, without warning, a memory she had spent years trying to forget came rushing back.

The Saturday Maria disappeared.

The day everything changed.

FLASHBACK

It had started like every other Saturday morning.

Clara had been sleeping peacefully when the sound of shouting from the kitchen dragged her out of bed.

She groaned, pulled her blanket away, and sat up.

"What's happening down there?" she muttered.

The argument continued.

Curiosity finally got the better of her, and she climbed out of bed, slipped her feet into her slippers, and made her way downstairs.

The moment she entered the kitchen, she found her mother standing beside the sink, her expression filled with frustration.

Maria stood in front of her, holding a dishcloth. Several broken pieces of a plate lay scattered across the tiled floor.

Clara stopped at the doorway.

Again?

It wasn't the first time Maria had broken something recently.

In fact, it had become a worrying habit.

"Young lady, this is the third plate you've broken this week!" Flora exclaimed. "What is wrong with you?"

Maria flinched at her mother's raised voice.

"I'm... I'm fine, Mum."

Her answer came too quickly.

Flora narrowed her eyes.

"Fine? Is that all you have to say? You've been breaking things, forgetting what you're doing, and acting as though you're frightened of your own shadow."

She paused, studying her daughter's face.

"You're barely eating, and you hardly talk to anyone anymore. Even your siblings have noticed. What is going on with you, Maria?"

Maria lowered her gaze and began fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

"Nothing, Mum. I'm fine."

Clara watched her sister carefully.

Something was wrong.

She had noticed the changes too, although she hadn't understood them. Maria, who used to fill every room with laughter, had become unusually quiet. Sometimes, when someone entered a room unexpectedly, she would jump as though she had been caught doing something terrible.

Other times, Clara would wake in the middle of the night and find Maria sitting upright in bed, staring into the darkness.

Whenever Clara asked what was wrong, Maria would force a smile and tell her it was nothing.

Clara had believed her.

Or perhaps she had simply wanted to.

"Maria, look at me when I'm talking to you," Flora demanded.

Maria slowly raised her head.

For a brief moment, Clara thought she saw tears gathering in her sister's eyes.

Then Maria blinked, and the expression disappeared.

Flora released a weary sigh.

"All right, munchkin. I won't keep questioning you this morning. Finish washing those dishes, then go to the mall for me."

She reached for a small piece of paper on the counter and scribbled something on it.

"Get two cartons of milk and a pack of eggs. Don't forget anything, and make sure you come straight home."

She handed Maria the money.

"Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mum."

"Good."

Flora turned back to the kitchen counter, muttering something about the cost of replacing broken plates.

Clara approached her sister as Maria began gathering the broken pieces.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Clara whispered.

Maria glanced at their mother before looking back at Clara.

For a moment, she said nothing.

Then she gave a small, tired smile.

"I'm fine, Clara."

"You don't look fine."

"Please don't start."

"I'm not starting anything. I'm just worried about you."

Maria's expression softened.

She reached out and squeezed Clara's hand.

"I know."

The simple response unsettled Clara more than she expected.

Maria had always been the one who reassured her, the one who reminded her that everything would be all right.

Hearing uncertainty in her sister's voice felt wrong.

"Then tell me what's happening," Clara insisted quietly. "You can tell me anything. You know that, right?"

Maria stared at her for a long moment.

Clara waited, hoping that, for once, her sister would let her in.

Instead, Maria glanced toward the kitchen entrance again.

"I'll tell you later."

"Later when?"

"When I come back."

Clara frowned.

"You're only going to the mall."

"I know."

Maria managed another smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Then she turned away and continued cleaning the broken dishes.

Clara wanted to question her further, but Flora called from the other side of the kitchen, asking her to help with breakfast.

The moment passed.

Neither sister knew it would be the last ordinary conversation they would have for years.