The Unwritten Chapter

The house felt quieter than usual. After the funeral, the air still carried the heavy scent of grief, and Cael could feel its weight in every corner of his new home. The Chang household, as warm and welcoming as it had been, still wasn't his. Not really.

Mrs. Chang approached him as he sat in the living room, flipping through an old photo album he'd found among his parents' belongings. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder, and he turned to meet her concerned gaze.

"Cael," she began, her tone soft yet serious, "there's something I need to tell you. It's about Evelyn."

The name sent a spark of recognition through him. Evelyn—the old woman he'd seen at the hospital on his first day awake in this life. She'd seemed so familiar, yet he couldn't place why.

"She was your nanny," Mrs. Chang continued. "She practically raised you when you were little. She loved you dearly, almost like a second mother. But after your parents' accident…" Her voice wavered slightly. "She couldn't bear the loss. She left shortly after Patricia passed."

Cael listened in silence, processing her words. A memory flickered faintly in his mind, or perhaps it belonged to the original Cael. A kind woman with a warm smile, always humming as she tidied up or brought him snacks.

"She left something for you," Mrs. Chang added, pulling a folded piece of paper from her pocket. "I found this among your parents' things. It's a letter she wrote before she left."

Cael hesitated before taking the letter, the paper soft and worn from age. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

Mrs. Chang offered a faint smile and patted his shoulder before leaving him to read.

In the solitude of his room, Cael unfolded the letter with trembling hands. The handwriting was shaky but still legible, and as he read, the words seemed to echo with Evelyn's voice:

My dear Cael,

I'm sorry I couldn't stay. Your mother was my closest friend, and losing her… it broke something in me. I wish I could have stayed for you, but every corner of that house reminded me of her. I hope you can forgive me for leaving when you needed me most.

Patricia was always so strong, but in the end, she carried burdens she never shared. She told me things in confidence that I still don't understand—things that frightened her. I didn't press her, and I've regretted it ever since. If you ever need me, I'll be here.

The letter ended with an address and a plea for forgiveness.

Cael stared at the paper, his mind racing. What burdens? What had Patricia been afraid of? The memory of her smiling face in the portrait at the funeral felt so distant now, like a mask she wore to hide something deeper.

He couldn't ignore this. He needed answers, and Evelyn was the only person who could give them to him.

The following day, Cael stood outside a small, modest house on the outskirts of town. The garden was overgrown, the paint on the fence peeling, but it had a certain charm that made it feel lived-in.

He hesitated before knocking, the letter clutched tightly in his hand. Moments later, the door creaked open, and Evelyn appeared. She looked older than he remembered—frailer—but her eyes were still sharp.

"Cael," she said, her voice heavy with emotion. "I didn't think you'd come."

"I need to talk to you," he said, his voice steady despite the lump in his throat. "About my parents."

Evelyn hesitated, her hand gripping the edge of the door as if debating whether to let him in. Finally, she stepped aside. "Come in, child. We have much to talk about."

The living room was cozy, though cluttered with knick-knacks and faded photographs. Evelyn poured them both tea, her hands shaking slightly as she set the cups on the table.

"You look so much like your mother," she said, her gaze distant. "It hurts to see you, but it's a good kind of hurt. She would've been so proud of you."

Cael sipped his tea, the warmth doing little to soothe the ache in his chest. "Mrs. Chang said you were close to her. That you might know… things she didn't share with anyone else."

Evelyn sighed deeply, setting her cup down. "Your mother was a wonderful woman, but she was also a woman with secrets. She never told me everything, but in the months before her death, she was different. On edge. Nervous."

"Did she say why?" Cael pressed.

Evelyn shook her head. "Not directly. But there were visitors—men in suits who came to the house asking for her. They said it was business, but your mother didn't trust them. She always seemed uneasy after they left. She even started locking the doors during the day, something she'd never done before."

Cael's grip on the cup tightened. "Do you think they had something to do with her death?"

"I don't know," Evelyn admitted, her voice trembling. "But Patricia was scared of something—or someone. And I should have asked more questions."

The room fell silent, the weight of her words pressing down on them both.

As Cael left the house later that evening, Evelyn placed a hand on his arm. "Be careful, Cael. The world isn't kind to people like you. You're strong, but you'll need to be smart, too. Trust only those closest to you."

Her words lingered in his mind as he walked to the car, the cool night air biting at his skin. He glanced back at the house one last time, a faint light glowing in the window.

He had more questions than answers now, but one thing was clear: his parents' deaths weren't as straightforward as they seemed.

As he climbed into the car, he whispered to himself, "I'll keep my promise. To them… and to myself."