Semua Bab SILENT BETWEEN TWO HEARTS: Bab 11 - Bab 20

The DuBois Fine Arts & Jazz Lounge had never been busier. For weeks, the air inside pulsed with energy, as if the walls themselves knew something significant was coming. The Revival Series wasn’t just an event it was a resurrection of culture, a weaving together of history and artistry meant to remind the community of its roots. And for Harry DuBois, it was more than a professional undertaking. It was personal.Every evening, Elena Rivera sat at the long mahogany table in the lounge’s private back room, papers and portfolios spread before her. She moved with a focus Harry admired, her pen scratching notes, her eyes lighting up when she spoke about Black artists whose work deserved the spotlight. Harry watched her from the doorway sometimes, pretending to be lost in thought but really just caught in her passion. She reminded him of Naomi when she was excited about her art projects, except Elena’s fire carried years of experience and a depth that tugged at Harry in ways he wasn’t ready

Elena remembered everything, every detail, every fragment of truth her father had revealed in his trembling voice earlier that week. The confession had come unexpectedly, soft and broken, as Miguel sat in the lounge speaking more to his own ghosts than to her. He never knew she listened from the hallway, frozen and afraid. He spoke of regret, of loss, of the night he lost control not just of the wheel but of his entire life.And now, standing in Henry Dubois’ silent study, Elena felt that painful memory press down on her like a weight she could no longer hold.Her father, Miguel, had entered the Dubois Lounge days ago with humility she hadn’t seen in him for years. He had bowed his head, spoken softly, and asked Henry for forgiveness completely unaware that the man sitting opposite him was the very one whose name had destroyed his family.Miguel did not know Henry was the mysterious stranger Maria ran away with.He did not know Henry was the one her heart had chosen, the one she riske

When Elena stepped out of the lounge, the air outside felt thinner, sharper, almost biting against her skin. She was ready to run, not just from the room, not only from Henry, but from every memory, every truth, every burden that had been thrust into her hands without warning. Her legs trembled as she walked, and though she tried to steady her breath, her mind spun like a wheel thrown off its axle. Everything had shifted in a matter of seconds. One moment she had been wrestling with jealousy, feeling foolish for the sudden pang she felt when Henry seemed lost in memories of another woman. The next moment, the world had cracked open, spilling a truth she never imagined could be tied to her.That face on the picture.That familiar smile.The ghost she had mourned and cursed in the same breath.Maria, her sister.Her heartbeat echoed inside her ears as she tried to grasp the full weight of what had just happened. She had come into Henry’s life unaware that he had once been the center of

Elena stepped into the living room, and for a moment, the silence felt unnatural, heavy, abandoned, like no one had lived in the house for years. Dust clung to the air, and a foul stench hit her so sharply she covered her nose. It smelled like something had died inside, maybe a chicken, maybe worse.“Papa?” she called out, her voice echoing through the hollow space.No answer.A knot tightened in her stomach. She called again, louder this time, and hurried toward the staircase. Her footsteps were quick, frantic, her heartbeat crashing in her ears.Halfway up the stairs, she froze.A single wooden stool sat beside the railing. On it lay a folded piece of paper, placed too neatly to be an accident. Her chest tightened as she reached for it. Her fingers trembled.She opened the note. The words blurred as she read, her eyes refusing to believe, her mind rejecting every sentence. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a mistake. A trick. A nightmare.“No… this can’t be,” she whispered.The no

THE NEXT MORNINGThe night had been long, longer than any night she had ever lived through. Sleep had come, but only forcefully, after countless tears and moments when her body simply gave up. She drifted in and out, always dimly aware of Henry sitting beside her, keeping watch like a guardian fearful of losing her, too.As dawn crept through the windows, Elena opened her swollen eyes. Her head felt heavy, her heart, even heavier. But there was a small shift, tiny, fragile, but present. She felt slightly lighter, though still shattered. The truth remained, but the storm had calmed by a fraction.Henry was still there, his eyes tired but alert. He had not left her side. For a brief moment, she felt a sense of safety she hadn’t felt in years. But just as quickly, the resentment returned like a sudden gust. He was also the symbol of the Rivera tragedy, the thread that connected her family’s downfall.She didn’t say anything. Neither did he.Moments later, the loud wail of a siren broke