Chapter 11
The frustration boiled over. With a guttural roar, he hurled his phone against the nearest wall, watching as it shattered into pieces, shards scattering across the floor
He stood there, breathing heavily fists clenched at his sides.
Aya was gone, slipping out of his grasp, and for the first time, he felt utterly powerless.
Cliffe sat unmoving, the weight of the moment pressing down on him as he stared at the photo album and the card Aya had left behind. The dim lighting in the living room cast long shadows over his solemn face, accentuating the hollowness in his eyes. Slowly, his trembling fingers reached forward, turning the pages with painstaking care.
Each photograph felt like a punch to his gut. Aya had captured his life in her own way, moments he had dismissed as ordinary or Insignificant. He could still remember how much he had hated her obsession with taking pictures, how she’d always pointed that camera at him, grinning like it was the most natural thing in the world. At first, he’d found it imitating, but over time, he’d grown accustomed to it He’d learned to pretend she wasn’t there, letting her immortalize pieces of him he hadn’t thought twice about
But now, as he flipped through the pages, he saw his life through her eyes
There was a picture of a four–year–old Aya standing in the orphanage, clutching a dirty, tattered teddy bear. Her face was a mix of confusion and fear, her wide eyes darting nervously at the unfamiliar walls. He remembered that day clearly. He had washed that teddy bear for her, scrubbing it clean with his own hands until it looked almost new. The way her eyes lit up afterward was something he’d never forgotten… bright and full of gratitude. She’d always been so easy to please.
And yet, he hadn’t appreciated her enough.X
Suddenly, a memory surfaced, hitting him like a lightning bolt. Aya had begged him to buy her a special camera, one that used batteries. She’d been so excited, rambling about how they could use it to record the most important moments of their lives and turn them into a film someday. She had wanted to preserve their story, to keep those memories alive for the future.
Cliffe’s chest ached as he wiped away the tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t let her go without finding that camera. He shot from his seat, the photo album slipping from his lap onto the floor
Rushing to the specific comer where she always kept her little treasures, his hands fumbled with the angles and shelves she had meticulously arranged. If there was one thing he knew about Aya, it was that she always had a plan, always left pieces of herself behind.”
And somehow, he couldn’t shake the feeling that in that camera, she’d left him one final message
in her
Cliffe stared at the lone camera in his hands, a scowl forming on his face. There were supposed to be three cameras, one in room, another in the living room, and the last in the kitchen. Yet, only this one remained. With a deep breath, he pressed play.
The video flickered to life, and the voices that came through were sharp, dripping with disdain…
“What do you have to offer him? Me, I have the backing of one of the most powerful packs, and you? An orphanage? Evelyn’s voice was cruel, her laughter echoing mockingly…
Cliffe’s jaw tightened, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists…
The footage was grainy but clear enough to make out the setting. The room was dimly lit, and Aya had been ready for bed, her hair down, her frame slouched in exhaustion. Then Evelyn had barged in, her presence invasive and unwelcome.”
The video ended abruptly, but another immediately began to play.
This one showed Evelyn “bumping into” Aya in the hallway, her smirk all too deliberate as she spilled the hot scalding porridge on Aya’s feet. The next clip displayed her ‘mistakenly switching the ketchup in Aya’s sandwich with chili sauce, smirking smugly as Aya’s face twisted in discomfort.3
Cliffe’s teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached. He could feel the anger rising in his chest, burning like a wildfire. The little games Evelyn had played, the humiliation Aya had endured silently, all flashed before him like a cruel montage.
He had known Evelyn was manipulative, but this? This was calculated cruelty. And he’d been blind to it, so consumed by his own ambitions and ego that he’d ignored the obvious signs.
Cliffe gritted his teeth harder, his breathing uneven. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to lash out, to destroy something. anything to quell the storm within him. But all he could do was press replay, watching the evidence of his failure unfold over and over again.
Aya had suffered, and he had done nothing.
221 PM
Aya
