Semua Bab SILENT BETWEEN TWO HEARTS: Bab 31 - Bab 40

The night of the finale arrived like a long-awaited sunrise, slow, majestic, and carrying the weight of everything that had come before it. The revival had been months in the making, rooted in black art, poetry, and culture. It was more than an event; it was a bridge linking memories to the present, healing to expression, and pain to the promise of renewal.The abandoned city hall, once a carcass of broken dreams and forgotten council meetings, now breathed with new life. Elena had been working tirelessly with her small team to transform it. What had once been cracked floors and dust-choked air was now polished wood, vibrant murals, restored brick walls, and soft amber lighting that made the space feel like it had never truly died. It was her touch, her vision as an art curator and a project manager that turned ruin into a renaissance.By 6 p.m., guests began pouring in from across New York City and Porto Lagos. The crowd was a mosaic of artists, poets, dancers, curators, and lovers o

The morning after the grand finale of the revival series had a strange, almost magical stillness to it, as though the city had paused just to let the afterglow settle. The soft hum of dawn drifted over the streets, blending with echoes of applause, music, and the powerful emotions that had filled the hall only hours earlier.Elena Rivera woke to a phone vibrating nonstop on her nightstand. Emails, messages, and inquiries than she had ever received at once in her life. Three weeks ago, she had been a quiet art curator with a bruised past. Now she was becoming one of the most sought-after figures in the region’s art and cultural community.Harry DuBois, owner of the recently restored lounge and pillar behind the success of the revival series, had expected attention to follow the event. He knew Elena had brilliance in her, but even he did not expect the flood of interest that came the moment the finale ended.The art world noticed her.Investors noticed her.People she had never even met

The weeks following the Revival finale unfolded like a quiet sunrise—slow, warm, and full of promise. The city hadn’t forgotten what Elena Rivera had created. Her art raw, cultural, emotional had sparked a wave that was still rippling through the creative world. Investors, curators, gallery owners, and historians trickled into the city every other day, eager to partner with her.But Elena didn’t face this alone. Harry DuBois had made sure of that.Their relationship had settled into a rhythm gentle, unspoken, but unmistakably deep. They worked side by side at the lounge, planning performances, meeting partners, and nurturing Naomi’s future. Every evening, once the lounge closed and the city softened into night, they would linger behind. A shared laugh. A quiet cup of tea. A conversation that stretched longer than either intended.It wasn’t dramatic or rushed. It simply was a closeness that unfolded naturally.And Naomi…Naomi blossomed.The teenage girl who once hid her fears behind s

Harry didn’t speak on the drive to the hospital.He couldn’t.The city blurred past the windshield, streetlights, passing cars, and pedestrians, but none of it registered. His knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, his breath shallow, his thoughts chaotic.Maria? Alive?It felt impossible. It felt cruel. It felt… hopeful.But hope, for Harry, had never arrived freely. Every time he reached for it, grief pulled him back.Elena sat in the passenger seat, stealing worried glances at him. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t force questions. She simply stayed beside him, her presence steadying him more than she realized.Naomi was in the backseat, silent and terrified. Her fingers trembled against her phone. She wasn’t a little girl anymore, almost eighteen, almost grown, but hearing that her mother might be alive shook her to her core.She didn’t know what to feel.Fear?Excitement?Betrayal?Confusion?She kept staring out the window, breathing slowly.“Dad…” she finally whispered.Harr

Elena kept her footsteps steady as she walked out of the hospital, but inside her chest, a storm churned. The night air was cool, quiet, almost too calm for what she had just witnessed. Harry was still inside, still trying to make sense of the impossible, still trying to breathe through the weight pressing on him.“Maria.”The doctors said it.The woman claimed it.But Elena… Elena knew better.She crossed her arms tightly, staring at the distant city lights while her mind raced. Every memory of the Maria she grew up with felt like a compass pointing her toward the truth. The woman in that bed might have looked like her sister, but she wasn’t Maria inside.Her eyes lacked warmth.Her voice lacked recognition.And worst of all, she hadn’t known Elena.Maria and Elena shared everything as girls.Secrets. Fears. Weaknesses. Triumphs.Even their silly dreams were written on scrap paper.So if this woman didn’t recognize her…She wasn’t Maria.Elena exhaled slowly.And Helen had no idea.T