THE HEALER WHO COULD NOT SAVE HER BROTHER

QUESTIONS NOBODY WANTED ANSWERED

For a moment, no one spoke. 

The city outside didn’t stop being loud. But inside Rowan’s office, it felt like someone had pressed mute. Aria found herself staring at him, waiting for him to say something that made sense. Something reasonable. Something that would put the floor back under her feet.

Instead she got a man who looked regretful. Like he’d already said too much and now had to live with it.

He wasn’t going to take it back. Aria could see that.

“You looked into Liam’s death,” she said.

Rowan didn’t deny it. He looked almost proud for half a second. Then Aria’s voice came out stronger than she expected. “Why?”

Rowan dragged a hand down his face. “Aria”

“No.” She took one step closer. “You don’t get to drop ‘I investigated your brother’s death’ and then just… stop.”

Nyra jumped in fast, like she’d been waiting for permission. “She’s got a point.”

Neither Aria nor Rowan looked at her. Nyra’s face went from helpful to mildly offended in two seconds flat.

Rowan took a breath. “When Liam died, things didn’t add up.”

“Things didn’t add up?” Aria shot back. Irritation flared. But under it, curiosity. The bad kind. The kind that kept her up at night. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Aria said. “I don’t.” Because if she did, she wouldn’t be standing here right now, trying not to fall apart in his office.

Rowan leaned back in his chair and studied her. That look again. The one he used when he was deciding how much truth Aria could handle without breaking. It made her angry. He always did that, spoke for her, decided for her, protected himself by protecting her.

“The symptoms were documented,” he said finally. “Then the docs went missing.”

“What?”

“The official records said one thing.” He paused. “The people who actually saw him said something completely different.”

Aria’s heart kicked. “People who saw him before he died?”

She’d never talked to them. After Liam died, she couldn’t. The grief was too big. The silence was easier. Now, years later, she could see how much they’d all lost in that silence.

“What did they say?” she asked. Her  voice is barely steady.

Rowan’s face went hard. “They said Liam had a meeting.”

The silence that dropped was worse than noise.

Nyra blinked. “A meeting?”

Aria was bewildered. “Meeting who?”

“We don’t know,” Rowan said. It sounded wrong, like half a bridge with nothing under it.

“That’s all?” Aria asked.

“No.” He never said no without more. Nothing was ever easy with Rowan. He opened a drawer. Pulled out an old notebook. Frayed edges. Worn cover. Used too many times.

Aria’s heart raced. “This is from your case?”

He set it on the desk. Aria flipped it open fast. Pages filled with names, dates, observations. Her chest went colder the more she read.

Case seen leaving after curfew.

Case seen multiple times on the old southern road.

The subject remains unknown.

“This can’t be,” she muttered. Liam hated rules. He used to apologize sincerely when he stepped on someone’s flowerbed. He wouldn’t be sneaking around after curfew. Not him.

“You think this is real?” Rowan almost laughed. “You’re wrong.”

“What’s wrong with my question?” Aria snapped.

“No.” He thumped the desk. “Some reports were reliable.” He tapped another page. “Some weren’t.”

Aria frowned. It was infuriating how reasonable he sounded. She hated that he made sense.

Nyra leaned in. “Did Liam ever mention any of this?”

Aria shook her head. His lips had never said a word about meetings or curfews or being followed. Not once. He told her everything. Or she thought he did. The memory of him telling her  everything bothered her more than she wanted to admit.

A rhythmic knock cut through the room. Some facts of life were too reliable like guards interrupting at the worst moment.

A young guard stuck his head in. “Captain.”

Rowan looked up. “What?”

The guard glanced at Aria, then back at Rowan. It didn’t click for her what this could mean.

Rowan voiced it. “What is it?”

“The man from yesterday.”

Aria perked up. All her feelings sharpened at once. “What about him?”

The guard swallowed. “Took off.”

The guard shrugged. “He disappeared.”

The room went quiet again.

“What do you mean he disappeared?” Aria asked.

“He was here this morning,” the guard said. Uneasy now.

“Then he was gone,” the guard finished.

Nyra didn’t look like she bought it. “That’s not how explanations work.”

Everyone stayed serious. No one laughed. Because too many people were thinking the same thing.

Aria’s heart started beating faster. Daren could barely stand yesterday. How could he just… leave? Why now? Why would he want to leave?

The guard started fidgeting. “There’s something else.”

Nobody looked happy. Nobody looked relaxed. Because there was never good news after that sentence.

“What is it?” Rowan asked.

The guard handed him a folded piece of paper. Rowan opened it. His whole expression shifted. Not fear. Not surprising. Recognition.

Aria took it before he could react. She unfolded it. One line on the paper.

She read it again.

She isn’t supposed to remember.

It was the same note. The exact same handwriting. The same note that had been tucked inside Liam’s file years ago. The one she found after the funeral and never understood.

Aria felt the color drain from her face. Same note. Same problem. Same impossible gap in her memory.

And now she was scared. Because she had no idea what she wasn’t supposed to remember. And the fact that someone else thought she wasn’t supposed to remember it made it worse.

Her hands shook a little. Nyra noticed. “Aria?”

Aria didn’t answer. She kept staring at the note. She isn’t supposed to remember. Who wrote it? Who decided what she got to keep and what got taken? And why Liam too?

Rowan finally spoke, voice low. “You’ve seen this before.”

Aria nodded once. Didn’t trust herself to talk.

Nyra looked between them. “Okay. Someone’s been deciding what you’re allowed to know. For years.”

Aria closed her eyes. For half a second she let herself feel the full weight of it. Years of grief. Years of silence. Years of thinking she’d remembered everything about Liam’s last days. But maybe she hadn’t. Maybe someone made sure she couldn’t.

She opened her eyes. Healer first. Sister second. Panic later.

“Who was he meeting?” she asked Rowan. Voice steady now. “If there’s a notebook, there’s a name somewhere.”

Rowan hesitated. Then flipped pages. “I never found it.”

“Then we find it now,” Aria said.

Nyra muttered, “I miss simple fevers.”

No one laughed. Because nothing about this was simple anymore. The note in Aria’s hand felt hot. Like it was warning her. Like someone, years ago, had tried to keep her safe by keeping her blind.

And it didn’t work.

Outside, the city kept moving. Inside, Aria made a decision. She wasn’t going to forget anymore. Not if she could help it.