Just before the door closed, his phone rang, pulling him back to an unbearable reality.
Aiden (sharply, answering):
"Is there another problem?"
The police officer on the other end, his voice tense:
"Sir, there's a woman looking for her son... she hasn't been able to reach him since yesterday, despite their agreement to meet in the city. She is Dr. Arin's mother."
Aiden took a deep breath, his features suddenly hardening, any lingering trace of a sarcastic smile vanishing.
"I'm coming," he said curtly, then turned the wheel sharply, the screech of tires tearing through the street's silence like a warning cry from the heart of a storm.
At the Police Station
The waiting room was cold, and the pale gray walls exuded a sense of emptiness. The ticking of the clock seeped in like a heavy thrumming in the ears of the lady who restlessly shifted in her seat, clutching her phone, her eyes fixed on the screen as if awaiting a miracle.
The Woman (in a broken voice, trying to hold back tears):
"So... what do I do now? Where do I go?"
The police officer, idly flipping through some papers, raised his head slightly and said in a routine tone:
"Wait a moment, madam... the department head will be here shortly."
At that moment, far from this administrative chill, Arin sat on the edge of his bed, the room's dim light reflecting on his tired face. He gripped the old bandage and slowly began to unwrap it, revealing the sprawling wound as he bit his lip to hide a pain he tried not to feel.
Elsewhere, Saira returned to work, but her steps were hesitant, her mind still fixated on Aiden's words. Around her, her colleagues' whispers rose, like sparrows swooping down on hot bread.
First Colleague (with unconcealed curiosity):
"Who was that man? He looked like he was from another world..."
Another (sarcastically):
"If the manager fires you, your handsome man won't do you any good!"
A third (in a hushed voice, as if talking to herself):
"We are forced to be like slaves... no one listens to us."
Meanwhile, the doors of the police station swung open. Aiden entered.
His steps steady, his face as rigid as sea rock. He didn't need to raise his voice, for when he spoke, a strange silence fell as if time itself stopped to listen.
Aiden (in his calm, decisive voice):
"Where is she?"
The police officer, rising with clear nervousness, stammered a little then pointed to the woman sitting in the corner:
"Welcome, sir... this is she."
The woman slowly turned, as if something forced her neck to twist. And when her eyes met Aiden's, her pupils widened as if they would burst. Her face paled, her mouth trembled, and she clutched her bag as if grasping a straw in a storm.
Aiden, looking at her steadily, slowly approached and said in a low tone:
"You... are Arin's mother?"
The woman continued to stare at him, her eyes tearing without blinking, as if seeing a ghost returned from the grave.
Aiden drew closer, bending his body slightly, then whispered in her ear in a voice almost inaudible, yet it pierced her mind like a bullet:
"Did you find your son, Aiden?"
The woman trembled, retreating two steps as if pushed by an unseen force, then sat on the chair behind her unconsciously, her breath catching, and a silent tear ran down her right eye.
Aiden straightened up, calmly observing her reaction before saying in a softer, yet still firm tone:
"Arin told me the truth. So I decided to help. I'll take you to him... to Arin."
At that moment, a new chessboard was silently drawn within Aiden, but this time, the pieces weren't black and white, but broken, intertwined, and confused. From the moment Arin uttered his missing brother's name, the notebook in Aiden's mind began to light up for the first time, as if throbbing with hope.
But hope wasn't enough... Aiden's childhood was still surrounded by a thick fog.
Aiden gently opened the car's back door and nodded for the woman to get in.
She hesitated for a moment, as if her body was still unable to respond, then slowly entered, her hands trembling as she hugged her bag to her chest like a lost memory.
He closed the door, walked around the car calmly, then sat behind the wheel. A heavy silence hung in the air, only her disturbed breathing and his quiet sighs punctuating the scene.
Aiden, starting the engine, without turning to her, said in his monotonous voice that hid a sea of thought:
"Isn't it strange that Arin didn't tell you the location of his new house?"
He waited for an answer... but received nothing but a look.
A lost, astonished look, filled with confusion and surprise, and deep within it, something resembling a pain suppressed for years. Her eyes were fixed on him, as if she saw past and present intertwined in his face.
He let out a short sigh, then smiled faintly, mockingly, as he directed his gaze to the road ahead, the steering wheel in his hands like a piece of the chessboard spinning in his mind:
"What? Should I remind you of your missing son?"
Then he continued in a deeper voice, with a hint of mystery, as if talking to himself more than addressing her:
"So... maybe we don't just share a name... do we?"
Silence again, but inside Aiden, there was no calm at all. There was a sound... no, two sounds... intertwining, arguing, swirling in his head like an unceasing vortex.
(Inside Aiden's mind)
First voice, sarcastic, resembling him but sharper:
"Great... the name, the looks, the silence, everything points to one thing."
Another voice, calmer, confused:
"But it can't just be a coincidence? Why don't I remember? Why do I see fragmented memories, without context?"
(Aiden's inner voice aloud, as if talking to himself within his mind):
"So... what do I conclude from all these coincidences?"
"The name? The resemblance? Her looks? That astonishment clinging to her features?"
"Strange... this is all strange..."
"Empty loops... as if someone deliberately erased my childhood."
"How do I complete the missing chessboard? How do I rearrange the pieces?"
His hand trembled for a moment on the steering wheel, but he gripped it firmly again. The city lights reflected on the windshield as the car moved quietly.
He doesn't know yet...
But he's starting to feel.
And feeling, sometimes, is more dangerous than knowing.
Arin's House – Night Creeps in From Every Corner
Darkness had fallen over the room, and the silence was broken only by the sound of shallow breaths and stifled groans. On the bed, which seemed small under the weight of his pain, Arin lay, eyes closed, his forehead glistening with drops of sweat that slowly trickled down as if writing his agony on his skin. His body temperature was rising as if hidden fires burned deep within him. He finally took the painkiller, but its effect wasn't enough to extinguish what had ignited inside him.
Memories seeped in like thick smoke, then transformed into a dream...
A childish laugh echoed in the void, soft, warm, tinged with innocence:
Arin (in a small child's voice):
"Brother... my brother Aiden, shall we play hide-and-seek?"
Aiden (laughing, his voice like an embrace):
"Hmm, of course, absolutely! Let's play. I'll hide, and you find me, okay?"
The scene suddenly changed...
Everything around him had been overturned. The ground was no longer covered with flowers, nor did the sky laugh with its sun. The house... the childhood home, became just a structure devoured by darkness. The walls were decaying, and the windows groaned with the creaking of the wind. No light remained except for one narrow spot where a small version of Arin stood, alone, his anxious body wrapped around himself, calling in a trembling voice:
Little Arin (terrified):
"Aiden? Aiden... where are you? Don't leave me alone..."
But no one answered him.
The silence was as harsh as a slap, and the darkness began to gradually devour that bright spot. Suddenly, he found himself – as he was now – but shackled. The shackles wrapped around his wrists and ankles, preventing him from moving. As for his voice, it had completely disappeared, as if the dream had robbed him of the ability to scream.
And before his eyes... Aiden appeared. But he wasn't as he remembered him, he wasn't the brother he knew. Instead, he was swallowing darkness. Yes, the darkness itself surrounded him, seeping into his mouth, into his eyes, until he became just a shadow without features. He was literally consuming nothingness, as if his existence was fading away.
Arin (internally, struggling):
"No... no... wake up... wake up..."
His breath quickened, his body twisted, and his mind tried to pull him from that terrifying nightmare. His heart knocked against his chest as if wanting to break free.
At that moment, Aiden's car stopped in front of the dark house, as if silence preceded the storm.
The mother opened the door forcefully, her heart racing ahead with anxious steps, her gaze searching for a glimmer of reassurance amidst the tangled shadows in her mind. She got out quickly as if the ground was burning beneath her feet, then rushed towards the house door with fear mixed with hope.
She reached out to knock... but stopped. Her grip slowly loosened.
The door was unlocked.
She grasped the cold handle and turned it with a tremor, then entered quickly, her heart almost tearing from her chest.
The house was silent. Dim. Her hurried breaths were the only sound breaking the stillness.
She climbed the wooden stairs as if something invisible was guiding her, an unseen but felt force – maternal instinct.
She slowly opened Arin's bedroom door, and a faint light from the hallway rushed in.
She ran to him. Knelt beside him. Reached out to touch his forehead.
Behind her, Aiden ascended the stairs with measured steps, as if precisely gauging each moment, trying to prevent a new fracture.
When the mother touched him, his features froze for a moment.
Then he began to move slowly, as if being pulled from a heavy nightmare, from the depths of a dream distorted by much pain. He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze hazy as if the light stung him.
He said in a hoarse voice, barely audible:
"Mother... how... how did you get here?"
At that moment, Aiden appeared behind her, standing in silence.
The mother stood there, silent, looking at Arin as if she saw a shadow of her son, not him.
Her eyes were filled with many words, but she didn't utter them.
Words stuck in her throat, heavy as embers, unable to escape.
Her gaze carried everything: fear, pain, regret, and even reproach, but she said nothing. No reproach now.
Just a mother seeing the wreckage of her son... and not knowing where to begin to piece him back together.
Arin sat silently, his head bowed, his hands on his knees, while his mother's and Aiden's gazes intersected above him like invisible knives.
But he didn't look directly at them... he was elsewhere.
Inside him, he wasn't in this room.
He was standing in the middle of a shattered chessboard.
The ground beneath his feet was made of squares – sky-blue with light clouds and dark bloodstains.
The squares were shattered, as if the earth was collapsing piece by piece.
The pawns were scattered, some broken, and some with their necks snapped as if they were symbols of those who had left because of him or for him.
The queen – the one representing hope, strength, protection – lay on its side, its head broken.
The king stood, but it was fragile... a hollow stone, almost blown away by the wind.