Selene's POV
We were back at his place—curled up on the small couch in his room, sharing quiet breaths and occasional kisses between sips of coffee. I was sketching something on his tablet, something silly and abstract that probably looked like a cat and a dragon had fallen in love. Antonio, meanwhile, was oddly quiet.
"Okay, what is it?" I asked, nudging his knee with mine.
"What do you mean?"
"That face," I said, narrowing my eyes. "The one you make when you're chewing on something in your head."
He looked at me, then away.
And then he stood up, walked to his desk, and opened a drawer. I didn't expect him to turn with an envelope in hand—unmarked, but something about the way he held it made my stomach twist.
"This came to me today," he said, walking back and sitting beside me. "I didn't know if I should give it to you, but… I think you deserve to decide what to do with it."
He handed it over.
My fingers hesitated at the edge.
No name. Just one word written in ink that looked almost faded by time.
"Truth."
My chest grew tight. "What is this?"
"I don't know exactly. Someone gave it to me… someone who said they knew you. Your past."
Something in me trembled. My breath caught halfway through my throat.
I stared at the envelope for a long second, then opened it slowly.
Inside was a single photo… of me.
Much younger. Maybe 14. Standing outside an old house I hadn't seen in years. My expression was blank, but my eyes… my eyes looked scared. Behind me, a man I thought I'd never see again. Not family. Not friend.
A ghost from a life I'd buried.
There was a note beneath the photo:
> "You left without looking back. But not everyone forgets."
The room went still. Like the past had walked in, uninvited.
My hands trembled slightly as I folded the letter shut again. "Why now?" I whispered.
"I don't know," Antonio said, his voice low. "But I'm here, Selene. Whatever this is… you don't have to face it alone."
I leaned into his chest, burying my face against the warmth of his shirt.
And for the first time in a long time, I let the past crack open—just a little. Not to break me again, but to start healing, with him beside me.
I didn't speak for a while. Just the sound of the clock ticking on Antonio's wall and the faint hum of the city outside. The envelope lay open on the table, but the photo—that photo—rested like a weight on my chest.
Antonio's arm stayed around me, firm, warm, patient.
"He was my mom's distant cousin," I finally said. My voice was shaky. "Used to visit during summers when I was little. Everyone thought he was kind. Helpful. He brought gifts. Told stories. But behind the curtains…"
I swallowed. The words burned. "He scared me. I didn't know how to explain it. It wasn't anything I could prove. Just… touches that lingered too long. Questions that felt wrong. Eyes that watched me when no one else did."
Antonio's hand tightened on my shoulder. "Selene—"
"I never told anyone. Not even Luna. Not even Ayra. I thought it would go away when we moved. That he'd vanish like a nightmare after dawn. But this photo—" I pointed to the man behind my younger self, "—was taken the day I told my mom I didn't want to visit that place anymore. She thought I was just being moody."
Tears slipped down my cheek before I even realized.
"I've worked so hard to forget. To rebuild. To create this version of myself that didn't carry those shadows. But someone out there wants to drag me back. And I don't know why."
Antonio turned me gently to face him. "Hey. Look at me."
I did. His gaze was steady, unwavering.
"You're not that scared girl anymore. You're not alone. Whatever this person's trying to do—it ends here. I won't let anyone touch your peace, Selene. I swear it."
His words were fierce, like fire laced with devotion. And in that moment, the fear that had risen like a tide began to settle.
"But why now?" I asked softly. "Why reach out now?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. But I'll find out. And whoever it is—they don't know who they're messing with."
I pressed my forehead to his.
In the dim light, in his arms, I felt the first stirrings of something powerful—not revenge, not rage.
Resilience.
Because I wasn't just a girl haunted by a photo.
I was Selene.
And I was done being afraid.