The morning dawned with a different air. Ana felt it in the windows fogged by the mist, in the murmur of the servants that seemed denser, more nervous. Something was coming, something creeping through the cracks of the mansion like a silent omen.
He was in the library, sorting through old books at Lucian's instruction, when one of the servants, a shy young woman named Katia, approached him with an envelope in her hands. She said nothing, just handed it to him before disappearing into the shadows as if afraid of being seen.
Ana looked at the envelope with trembling hands. It had no return address, but she recognized the handwriting she had learned to imitate since she was a child: her mother's. She opened it awkwardly, as if she were afraid of being seen.
She opened it clumsily, as if there was a sleeping poison inside the envelope. The words were written in trembling ink and in an almost impersonal tone:
"I thought you were dead. Now I know you are still alive. I don't know if I deserve to be read to you. But your brothers ask about you...though they don't remember you as I do. Your father hasn't said a word about you since you left."
Anne felt the air rush out of her lungs. She had to sit down. The world, for an instant, stopped spinning.
"I don't know if you'll ever come back. I don't know if you'll dare to forgive. But if you can, look for me. I... I'm sorry for everything."
Tears rolled down her cheeks without permission. The paper trembled between her fingers. She had wanted that letter so badly. She had hoped so much that someone, anyone, would remember her. And now that the words were there, as real as her pain, the blow was stronger than any chastisement from Viktoria or icy stare from Lucian.
Her mother was alive. Her siblings, too. But they didn't remember. Or they didn't want to remember.
That night, as she locked herself in her room, hugging the letter as if it were an heirloom, she understood something that tore at her more than anything else: time had moved on for them.
And she... she had become an echo. A ghost of a past that no one wanted to face.
Lucian found her hours later, staring blankly. He said nothing. He sat down beside her and took her hand.
-Did you get bad news?
Ana didn't answer. She only nodded, feeling that, for once, her silence spoke louder than a thousand words.
Lucian stroked her cheek with a gentle gesture.
-So now you understand why you are here," he whispered. Because I will never forget you.
And though his words sounded like consolation, Anne felt she had just heard the echo of another prison closing behind her.