•••
The room smelled of smoke and forgotten promises, a haze that hung in the air like the unspoken words between two people who have long since ceased trying to understand each other.
Serena stood by the window, watching the city stretch out beneath the cold, indifferent sky.
The light from the street lamps cast long shadows on the pavement, as if the streets themselves were trying to escape the weight of the night.
She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the lighter, the one that had been with her for as long as she could remember. It was worn, its edges frayed from years of use, yet it still held the same spark, the same promise that had once kept her going.
She flicked it open, watching as the tiny flame danced in the dim light of the room. For a moment, it felt like everything in the world was centered in that little flame—small, fragile, but undeniable.
She thought of Arthur then. She thought of how, just a few months ago, he had been a distant figure in her life, a man she had never truly known, yet whose presence had haunted her more than any of the shadows now creeping along the walls.
The flame flickered, and she closed it quickly, the moment slipping away like so many others in her life.
She wasn't here to relive the past. She wasn't here to remember how they had danced around each other in a world full of half-truths and lies.
She was here because of what he had left behind. And she would find the answers, no matter the cost.
Serena's fingers clenched around the lighter, the weight of the metal grounding her in the present.
She couldn't afford to get lost in memories now, not with everything hanging in the balance.
•••
One year ago….
•••
In a small corner, where the ceiling groaned from the cold and the windows moaned from hunger, the old apartment felt as though it was on the brink of collapsing into an unseen chaos, as if time had stopped here long ago.
The furniture was scattered, some pieces lying on the floor as if they no longer wished to remain.
The walls were stuffed with decay, scattered with stains of time, like the remnants of a battle that could only be seen by those capable of looking beyond the dust.
Serena sat on the edge of the bed, her eyes misty as she watched Emma, the child sleeping in the corner. Emma's quiet breath was like whispers that could not be heard in the air. That moment was void of hope, filled with a terrifying silence. And whenever she tried to think of the future, it felt as though her thoughts scattered like ashes in the wind.
She wore a faded black dress, the traces of mourning still visible on her. Her face was pale, as though she had lost a part of herself just moments ago, and dark circles had gathered under her eyes, the result of the long hours of unbearable grief.
Her eyes were red, saturated with exhaustion and unshed tears.
There was an aura of darkness around her features, and in that moment, she was braver than ever, but deep inside, she was sinking into an abyss—into the loss of her sister, into feelings that never seemed to end.
Serena reached for the lighter, her old companion, which had more than just a functional purpose. It was not just a tool to start a fire; it was the lighter that carried a flicker of lost memories, of things that were never completed, of moments that were considered substitutes for life itself.
She opened it slowly, watching the flame dance in the light, fragile but alive.
It was weak, yet it was there, a candle that illuminated this absolute darkness. She felt something strange, as if the lighter were the only thing holding her to life, the only thing that still held a faint glow amidst all this destruction.
But what life was she clinging to? The days were passing slowly in this halted time. What could one find here in this void? In these empty rooms and streets where only the sound of her footsteps echoed?
For her, Emma was everything.
That child who still did not understand the meaning of pain, but Serena felt as if she carried her in her heart, as if she were the inescapable responsibility.
The child was the only being that could make Serena feel anything that resembled life.
Yet, her heart was heavy, burdened with memories that would never be forgotten.
Sabrina. The one who had once been a companion and a sister, who had left her in a mysterious moment.
Was her departure a surprise? Or was there something else behind that sudden absence? Serena didn't know, and she was still searching for the answer in every corner of that room, in every corner of her life, where dreams were slipping away and drowning in a swamp of unsettling memories.
She shivered slightly, unable to determine whether it was from the cold or from the feeling that was beginning to fill her chest. Everything was closed off, and her eyes were closing on the lighter, now just a cold metal piece in her hand.
Suddenly, Emma's voice came, soft whispers from her closed mouth:
"Mom..."
Serena closed her eyes for a moment, as if she needed that reminder that someone needed her. But that reminder was like a light in a dark tunnel, a faint light that didn't dispel the darkness but added greater depth to it. Was everything in her life predestined? Had she really chosen this path? Or had life itself imposed this dark fate upon her?
Serena, the woman who had always been trapped in a world of questions without answers, took a deep breath, and returned the lighter to her pocket, as if the extinguished glow inside it was the last thing she could hold onto in this world.
She whispered to herself:
"I won't leave you, I'll never leave you."
Again , She thought of Sabrina, of the time when she had been a beacon of light in Serena's life, vibrant and full of life. But that light had been snuffed out too soon, leaving only a cold shadow. Was it all fate? Or was there something, someone, orchestrating this symphony of pain and loss?
She closed her eyes, trying to distance herself from the whirlwind of thoughts threatening to pull her under. The wind outside howled against the fragile window panes, its mournful cry slipping into the room as though time itself was clawing at the walls, eager to be heard. But Serena couldn't escape the past. She couldn't escape Sabrina.
When she opened her eyes, she saw the shadows moving across the walls, cast by the faint light filtering through the cracks. In every corner of this derelict apartment, there were remnants of Sabrina's presence—fragments of a life that had once been full of promise, now abandoned and forgotten. On the table, papers lay scattered—perhaps letters, perhaps fragments of journals—but Serena wasn't ready to touch them yet. Not now. She couldn't face them.
She couldn't bear to face everything Sabrina had left behind in those final days.
And then, something stirred within her, something intangible. A whisper, barely audible, yet unmistakable. It was as though Sabrina was still there, standing in the corner of the room, watching her with quiet eyes.
Serena hoped she was wrong.
She hoped that it was just the weight of her grief playing tricks on her. But deep down, she knew. Sabrina was here.
She had never truly left.
A quiet sorrow seeped into Serena's chest, heavy and suffocating. It was a sorrow that seemed to have settled within her bones, as though it were a permanent fixture. She had always tried to wear a mask, to maintain an outward composure. But here, in this room, in this moment, she couldn't pretend. The truth was undeniable: there was no escape from this grief, no escape from the pain that anchored her to this place, to this life. It was a pain that refused to be shaken off, a pain that whispered in the silence of the night.
But there was still something she had promised Sabrina, something she could not allow herself to forget.
"I will find the answers,"
she whispered to herself, her voice barely a murmur, but laced with unwavering resolve.
The road ahead would be long, fraught with obstacles and lies. But she would walk it.
She had no choice but to walk it.
She inhaled deeply and reached for the lighter once more, watching as the flame flickered to life, small and fragile, yet alive. In that brief spark, she felt something stir within her, a fleeting sense of hope—however illusory. It was all she had left. And for now, it would be enough.
A single tear escaped from her eye, tracing a path down her cheek. She didn't wipe it away.
There was no need. She understood now. This pain, these tears, were part of the journey.
They would carry her forward, step by painful step, until she found what she was searching for. Until she found the truth.