Chapter 3
The passage did not end where I found Sofia.
A door was hidden behind the chair.
Beyond it was a small room.
Bed.
Sink.
Table.
Stacks of folded clothes.
No windows.
No clock.
Four years of life reduced to objects that could not tell someone what season it was.
Sofia stood in the doorway and refused to enter.
“I’m not going back in.”
“You’re not.”
She looked at me as if testing whether promises still meant anything.
I turned to my guards.
“Nothing in that room moves until I see everything.”
Helena laughed behind me.
“You’re behaving as if I built it.”
I looked at her.
“This house belonged to our grandfather.”
“Exactly.”
“So you knew the passages.”
Silence.
Marco answered.
“Everybody in the older family knew some existed.”
“Did everybody know my wife was inside one?”
No answer.
Sofia sat in the memorial room with a blanket around her shoulders.
Clara remained several feet away.
Watching.
I did not force them closer.
Sofia looked toward the portrait.
“You held the memorial every year.”
My chest tightened.
“You heard it?”
“Everything.”
Her voice broke.
“The speeches. The violin. Clara crying the first year.”
I felt sick.
Four memorials.
Four years standing inches from my living wife while family members told me how beautifully I honored her memory.
Sofia looked at Helena.
“She liked that part.”
Helena’s face hardened.
“What part?”
“Hearing him mourn me.”
Marco whispered, “Sofia.”
She flinched again.
I turned toward him.
“Don’t say her name.”
He stopped.
Sofia looked at me.
“They told me you knew.”
My stomach dropped.
“Knew what?”
“That I was here.”
Silence.
“They said you decided it was easier to let everyone think I died.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
She watched my face carefully.
“I know that now.”
That sentence hurt more than if she had accused me.
May you like
For four years, they did not only keep Sofia hidden from me.
They made her believe I chose to leave her there.
