2025-08-09 16:15:21
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The study was dimly lit, filled with the scent of old paper and something faintly smoky—perhaps from the fireplace that hadn’t been used in weeks. Mr. Callahan’s fingers hovered over a stack of albums tucked into the bottom shelf. He slowly pulled one out, a leather-bound photo album already frayed at the edges from too much handling over the years.Arthur stood at the doorway, unsure whether to step back or remain still. He had come to return a book to Mr. Callahan, but the conversation had taken a strange turn.Mr. Callahan opened a page, eyes softening at a photograph. His voice, when it came, was quiet, almost to himself.“What? That was where my son died.”Arthur shifted. “Sir?”Mr. Callahan turned the photo album around and pointed to a burned structure in a picture. It was taken long ago, probably by the press or police. “That was the place,” he said, then reached into a drawer and brought out a framed photograph.He handed it to Arthur.Arthur took it carefully, glancing down
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The room was quiet. The breeze from the open window lifted the curtains gently, casting strips of sunlight across Arthur’s face as he stood in quiet contemplation. A towel rested on his shoulder he had just finished cleaning and his eyes were fixed on the floor, yet his thoughts were elsewhere, deeper than the surface he stood on.“I think I need to go back home for some time,” he murmured to himself, voice low and heavy. “I need to explain better to them that I didn't run away from home. I just needed to find my way around... and try to go back to living my life, not depending on my family.”It wasn’t guilt that weighed him down. It was something heavier—an unshakable sense of unfinished business. And perhaps, somewhere deep inside, it was the echo of a life he hadn’t fully remembered.Wiping his hands one last time, he folded the towel and draped it over his shoulder before walking out. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he made his way to Mr. Callahan’s office. He reached the door
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The Callahan mansion had never truly known silence not even in grief. There was always movement, whispers, or the quiet hum of Jasper’s laughter. But that morning, as the sun crept past the marble pillars and into the drawing room, everything felt… paused.Diana wasn’t downstairs yet. Richard and Mr. Callahan sat by the large window, reading reports in silence. K.J. was away on business. Daphne had just stepped out for a call. The only sound was the distant ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece.Then, a knock.Three slow, firm knocks.The butler opened the door and paused. His eyebrows arched as he stepped aside for the guest to enter.A man with strands of greying hair stepped in broad-shouldered, tall, his presence oddly commanding despite the humble coat he wore. His eyes scanned the room, but there was no hesitation in his steps as he walked directly toward Mr. Callahan.Richard stood up first. “Can we help you?”Mr. Callahan squinted at the man, the wrinkles on his face tighten
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The sun was barely up when Arthur packed a bag and left the compound.He didn’t say a word to Diego. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not yet.There was no plan, just a pull in his chest that refused to loosen. The boy from yesterday, the strange stares, the woman’s laugh—it had cracked something open. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Something was missing. And if no one was going to give him answers, then he would find them himself.He’d seen the notice on a worn-out bulletin board two towns over. Now Hiring: Callahan Mansion. In need of full-time domestic help. ID Required. It was simple enough. A name, a few lies, and he could walk right into the home that tugged at something deep inside him. He didn’t know why, but it felt like the answers were there. Something was waiting for him inside that house.Maybe someone.Maybe himself.****Later That Day Callahan MansionThe Callahan estate was alive with quiet movement. Diana had resumed working part-time at the hospital, and Jasper had grown into a st
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Morning came too quickly.Arthur sat at the edge of his bed, staring out the window at the dew-covered fields. Birds chirped in the distance, the sun barely above the horizon. It should’ve been peaceful—but inside him, everything felt restless.He couldn’t stop thinking about yesterday. About that woman’s laugh. The man’s eyes. The kid’s smile. All of it kept looping in his head like a song he couldn’t get rid of. He barely slept.There was no reason for it to bother him so much. No logical explanation for why complete strangers had made his chest tighten like that. He told himself it was just déjà vu, like Diego said. Just some scrambled memory flashing through his broken mind.But that didn’t make it go away.Downstairs, Diego was already in the kitchen, slicing fruit and making tea like he did every morning. When Arthur walked in, his uncle looked up with a small smile.“Didn’t hear you come down,” Diego said.“Didn’t sleep much,” Arthur replied, pulling out a chair and sitting at
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The sun was nearly gone, casting long shadows over the quiet compound. Arthur walked slowly toward the main house, his shoulders heavy, his face tense like something was stuck in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake off. He found his uncle in the study, a book open in his lap. Diego noticed the look on his nephew’s face immediately."You look like your thoughts are chewing you up," Diego said, closing the book. "Rough day?"Arthur let out a long sigh, brushing his hand over his forehead like he was trying to wipe the feeling off his skin. "The day itself was fine. I fixed the fence. The woman was happy with the work." He paused and looked at his bruised hands. "But something happened when I was leaving. I saw a woman, a man, and a little boy. Just standing there across the road."Diego raised an eyebrow. "And?""I don’t know what it was," Arthur said, frustration creeping into his voice. "I just… the woman’s laugh it felt like I’d heard it before. The man looked at me like he knew m
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