Bittersweet Memories Catharina Maura Novels & Stories

My parents shrank under the stares, their proud expression fading into stiff, pale faces. Suddenly, Audrey's eyes widened, as if she'd just thought of a way out. She jabbed her finger at the screen, shouting, "That woman in the video isn't me! "I have a twin sister—her name's Aurora. She's the one in that footage!"

He sounded relieved. "She woke up once last night. She didn't even recognize me." Last night, when I first came to, my vision hadn't cleared yet. I simply couldn't see who was there, so I asked. The healer went on, "She's been unconscious for so long, it's normal that her memory's jumbled. We'll run another test. If there's memory loss, there are always witches' potions. The southern witch, Olivia…" This poison mainly targeted the mind of a werewolf, and only then the body. My body felt fine. Clearly, the healer's antidote had worked.

Carl fell to his knees as visions of his mother flooded his mind — her voice, her death, the lab. But Lena held the line. Inside, Ophelia guided her. “Don’t fight the memories. Anchor to us. To now.” Lena visualized Carl’s hands. Elara’s laughter. The first time she’d eaten cake. Small things. Real things. She stood, voice like thunder: “You want our pain, Eira?” “Here’s mine.” And she released her memories. Every moment of loss. Every sliver of loneliness. And it shattered Eira’s smile.

But at the same time… If my child ended up looking like Luciano De Luca, wouldn’t he eventually grow suspicious? Wouldn’t he begin questioning Doctor B’s identity again? And even if he didn’t… “There are too many painful memories here,” I said quietly. “Surely they can’t all be bad,” Caterina replied. They weren’t. But that was part of the problem. “Even the good memories hurt right now,” I admitted. “I need to leave. It feels like the only way I’ll ever find peace again.”

The memory was a gaping wound—one I stitched up every morning only for it to reopen again at night. I blinked away the image of his lifeless body which often haunted my dreams. Cursing me and screaming eternal curses. “It's better now.” she said softly. "It used to be so hard but time makes everything better.” Maura glanced at me but didn’t press. There was a knowing look in her eyes—an understanding that some silences were sacred. We returned to their work. “So, what’s life like here?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation into lighter waters.

And in that second she looked so much like the young woman she was at 23, when she had come home from college to see the royal castle burned in flames around her, with only a younger cousin and a half insane uncle to hang on to. Then like a shutter, the window of vulnerability closed. “Try not to fuck up to much. If you can’t reach me, get to Damien.” Maura finished. She gripped her suitcase in one hand, black heels peeking out from the bottoms of her Philip Lim trousers, and climbed up the stairs, never turning back. Mattel was worried about himself too. Yes, the game he was playing with Regina could be fun, but it had an ending point. He was slowly entering the last stages of the acute pha

he added, busying himself with the food he was eating. “That’s none of your business,” I snarl. “Of course, and then again. An eighteen-year-old figured you out with a mere laugh.” he clicked his tongue before grabbing a glass and eyed me from the rim. “Because she is freaking hyperthymesia. She can remember things thoroughly.” I scowl, "It's uniquely annoying, I know." I clench my fist, letting my fury out through the nose. “Maybe if you had done your job thoroughly,” he looked at me, “You would have known,” he scoffed. "I thought you were better that me because I would have sniffed from a mile away."

Archie growled at her. Maura was amused and leaned against the chair, staring at me. “I want the paparazzi to see her real self. Who is the real Camille? She is nothing more than my servant. Conan is dating a useless and ugly servant.” She laughed mockingly. “She does not deserve him.” “What’s the matter with you, Maura?” Kat asked. “She did nothing wrong with you. Then why the hell do you always want to be her bad luck?” “Don’t you think you’re speaking a lot more than I would like you to, dear Katy?” She glared at him. “I know you’re well aware of how I can shut your damn business if you keep taking her side.”

His eyes flicked between Kenneth and me, a glint of amusement flickering like a secret fire. He’s proud. Proud that I didn’t let Kenneth silence me again. Proud that I’m not the girl who used to walk away with her heart bleeding, pretending it didn’t hurt. Sophia rolled her eyes dramatically, like she was above all of this—like she wasn’t the one who threw the first stone. “Oh, let’s not waste our time on this trash,” she snapped, her voice laced with cruelty, gripping Kenneth’s arm like I was some desperate, clinging ex still hoping for scraps.