𝓗𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽

I ran inside the house, my heart still racing. I grabbed a band-aid from the bathroom cabinet and took a deep breath before heading back to the garden. What was that? Why did I suddenly feel so nervous?

When I returned, my aunt was still there, watching the sky as it began to take on shades of orange. Her fingers still traced the small cut on her finger, but her expression was calm.

— Here — I said, kneeling beside her.

She extended her hand, and I carefully wrapped the bandage around her finger. Her gaze was fixed on me, and for a moment, I felt like time had stopped.

— Thank you, Dylan — she said, her voice as soft as the breeze.

I smiled slightly, trying to shake off the strange feeling growing inside me.

— Have you always had this habit of taking care of others? — she asked playfully.

— I guess so. Or maybe I just like taking care of you.

She blinked, surprised, and looked away, chuckling softly.

Silence settled between us, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. We stayed there for a few minutes, simply watching the sunset. Then, Clarice let out a long sigh.

— You know… I really didn’t think I would ever come back here — she admitted.

I turned to face her.

— Why?

She hesitated.

— A lot of memories. Not all of them are good.

I remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She bit her lip and lowered her head.

— You asked me if I miss my father… And the truth is, I don’t know.

There was something in her voice that made me hold my breath.

— I… I don’t know if I’m ready to talk about it.

I placed my hand over hers, squeezing lightly.

— It’s okay. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be here.

She smiled, but her eyes carried a weight I couldn’t fully understand.

Before we could continue, the house door opened, and my grandmother appeared.

— My loves, it’s getting late. Come inside. I made caramelized bananas… You love them, don’t you, Dylan?

I chuckled softly.

— Hahaha, you love them, don’t you, Nana?

The nickname "Nana" came about when I was a child. I loved bananas, but I couldn’t say the word properly, so whenever I asked for them, I would always say "nana."

My aunt, who had seemed relaxed until then, suddenly went serious. Her expression changed completely.

— I have to go — she said abruptly.

My grandmother gently held her arms, a silent plea in her eyes.

— No, my daughter… Stay the night.

My anxiety returned instantly.

— No, Mom, I need to go. I promise I’ll come back.

— Do you really promise?

— Yes — she replied, but her expression was hard to read.

I swallowed dryly, trying not to show my frustration.

— I’ll call you a taxi, Aunt.

She simply nodded. We walked to the door in silence.

The taxi took a while to arrive, and I remained quiet. If I opened my mouth, I knew I would beg her to stay.

Then, a black car slowly approached.

My aunt noticed it, and instantly, her body stiffened.

She froze.

The car window rolled down slowly, revealing a man I didn’t recognize.

He had an intimidating presence: strong features, a cold gaze, and a slight smile that offered no comfort at all.

— Good afternoon, Mrs. Clarice.

His voice was firm, carrying a calculated tone.

My aunt turned pale.

He watched her for a few seconds before continuing:

— My condolences on your husband's passing. I truly am sorry…

There was a pause. The smile on his lips faded.

— But he didn’t pay me everything he owed.

The silence grew heavy.

The man tilted his head slightly and said in a low, threatening tone:

— Someone will have to pay.

A chill ran down my spine.

My aunt remained motionless, her eyes wide, as if trapped in a nightmare.

What was happening?

I see that my aunt is completely paralyzed by fear. Her face loses color, and her wide eyes shine with a mix of shock and terror.

I need to get her out of this situation.

— Ah, excuse me, sir, but we’re just leaving — I say quickly, trying to keep my voice steady. — The taxi is already here, we have an important appointment.

The man stares at me for a few seconds, then shrugs as if he doesn’t care.

— All right — he says, his expression serious. But before leaving, he gives one last warning, his words heavy with threat:

— Someone will have to pay.

He slowly drives away, disappearing into the darkness of the street.

My aunt lets out a shaky breath and, as if all her strength has left her, collapses onto her knees on the ground.

— Aunt! — I run to her, desperate.

She doesn’t respond. Her body trembles, and silent tears stream down her pale face. Her gaze is empty, lost.

I grab her shoulders, trying to bring her back.

— Calm down, it’s over… It’s over, okay?

She looks at me, dazed, her eyes filled with fear, as if she were still trapped in that moment.

I wrap her in a strong embrace, feeling her trembling body against mine.

— Let’s go inside, Aunt. I’ll get you a glass of water, you need to calm down.

— No! — She refuses, her voice hoarse and shaky.

The sound of an engine interrupts us. The taxi finally arrives.

— L-let’s go, Dylan — she says, her voice weak and rough.

She tries to stand up, but her legs fail.

— Here, let me help you.

I gently hold her arms and help her into the car. Without even thinking twice, I sit beside her.

I can’t leave her alone in this state.

The driver glances at us through the rearview mirror.

— Where to, ma’am?

My aunt hesitates for a moment, still trying to catch her breath.

— To… home.

The driver waits for more details. She takes a deep breath and finally says:

— Bela Cintra Street, number XXX.

I didn’t know where she had been living, but now I knew it was near the city center.

The car starts moving, and I keep holding her hand, feeling how cold it is.

I don’t know what’s going on, but now I’m sure of one thing:

My aunt is involved in something much bigger than I imagined.

And I’m not going to let her face it alone.