Memories

Miria stopped abruptly. She approached the girl, intrigued by what she was holding in her hands. Lyle handed her an old photo album without a word.

— "You should take a look," she murmured, almost hesitantly.

Miria nodded, took the album, and began flipping through it. Page after page, memories of another time passed before her eyes: pictures of her as a child, laughing alongside her mother… and even her father, a presence she barely remembered. Her fingers trembled slightly as she came across a photo of the three of them together, an image filled with a warmth she hadn't felt in a long time.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her, but a growing sense of unease urged her to continue. She turned the pages faster. Suddenly, she stopped at a photo of her mother, Katrina, as a teenager.

Pictures of Katrina surrounded by high school friends followed, but one of them immediately caught Miria's attention. She pulled the photo from the album, staring at it for a long moment before whispering, almost inaudibly:

— "This isn't possible…"

— "What did you say?" Lyle asked, intrigued by her expression.

Miria shook her head and replied in a detached tone:

— "Nothing important. Thanks for your help, Lyle. But we should stop here. Mom could come home any minute now."

Lyle seemed to accept the explanation, but before leaving the room, Miria stopped her.

— "Could you make me a copy of the key to this attic?"

— "No problem," Lyle replied with a smile before disappearing down the hallway.

As soon as Miria was alone, she pulled out the photo again and examined it even more closely. She turned it over and read the words written on the back: "Katrina and her friends – Eldornia High School."

She looked at the faces once more. Her gaze locked onto a young man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Asher. The features, the hair, even the intensity of his gaze… everything matched.

— "This doesn't make any sense…" she murmured, troubled.

How could Asher be in a thirty-year-old photo? And why did he look like an eighteen-year-old when he should have been forty-seven?

Miria carefully tucked the photo into her pocket, her thoughts swirling with questions. She put everything else back in place, carefully closed the attic door, and then went to her room to think.

As she had expected, Katrina came home shortly after.

— "Miria? I'm home!" her mother called from the entrance.

She waited, but there was no response. With a sigh, Katrina headed toward the dining room. The untouched breakfast on the table was proof that Miria hadn't eaten all day.

— "She's stayed in her room all day," Katrina murmured to herself.

As she turned to knock on Miria's door, something caught her attention: the attic door. It was slightly ajar.

— "Impossible," she whispered, perplexed.

She opened the door and saw that nothing seemed out of place. Yet she was certain she had locked this room.

— "Could Miria have…? No, that's not like her," she murmured.

Katrina closed the door again, locked it, and slipped the key into the pocket of her coat, which she then hung on the coat rack. She had no idea that Miria, watching discreetly from the gap in her door, had seen the whole scene.

When Katrina knocked on Miria's door for the third time, Miria finally opened it, her expression still closed off.

— "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

— "I want us to talk," Katrina replied pleadingly.

— "Talk? As if that's going to fix everything," Miria retorted, arms crossed.

Katrina sighed.

— "Listen, I promise to tell you everything. But not now."

Miria's head shot up, her eyes glimmering with hope.

— "When?"

— "After I return from my trip," Katrina replied.

— "A trip? What trip?"

— "A work trip. I'm leaving tomorrow morning, for three weeks."

Miria raised her voice, indignation in her tone:

— "Three weeks? Why not just tell me everything now?"

Katrina shook her head.

— "It's complicated, Miria. Just give me this time."

— "No, Mom. You're just using this as an excuse to run away again!"

— "Not this time," Katrina insisted. "I promise you."

Miria eventually relented, albeit reluctantly.

— "Fine. But I'm warning you, I won't forgive you if you break your promise."

Katrina nodded, relieved.

— "You should eat," she murmured, glancing at Miria's stomach.

At that moment, Miria's stomach let out a loud growl, and despite herself, she cracked a smile.

— "Alright. I'll come down in five minutes."

Once Katrina had left, Miria quickly retrieved the attic key from her mother's coat and secretly made a mold of it before putting it back.

That night, Miria studied the mysterious photo once again. The resemblance between Asher and the young man in the image haunted her.

— "Who are you really, Asher?"

She knew this mystery was only the beginning of a much bigger truth.