Chapter 6 - THE GIRL UNDER THE APPLE TREES
Victor walked through the rows of apple trees in a daze, the dry leaves crunching beneath his polished shoes. The grief that had weighed on his chest for nearly three decades had evolved into an unbearable ache. He had spent his entire life building walls of steel and numbers, convinced that control could undo the past, only to arrive three years after the final chapter had closed.
Near the edge of the clearing stood a wooden swing hanging from a broad oak branch. Sitting on the swing was a little girl of about seven years old. She wore a faded denim jacket, her dark hair tumbling in loose, natural curls around her shoulders. She was humming a soft melody while drawing in a sketchbook balanced on her knees.
Victor froze. The image of the portrait in the east wing slammed into his memory with terrifying clarity. The little girl on the swing had the exact same delicate profile, the same tilt of the head, the same storm-gray eyes.
“That’s Maya,” Martha said softly beside him. “Helena’s daughter. Helena worked two jobs at the local clinic to give her everything she could. Before she passed, Helena made me promise to raise Maya right here, far away from the city. She always believed someone had stolen her from a place with high iron gates, and she was terrified they would come back to take her child.”
Kiara walked forward slowly, dropping to one knee a few yards from the swing. “Hi, Maya.”
The little girl looked up, closing her sketchbook carefully. Her eyes were sharp, curious, and guarded. “Hello. Who are you?”
“My name is Kiara. I was a friend of your mother’s when she was little.”
Maya looked at Kiara for a long moment, then glanced at Victor, who stood frozen, tears streaming silently down his cheeks.
Maya hopped off the swing, clutching her small sketchbook against her chest. She took several slow steps toward Victor, looking up into his face with innocent scrutiny.
“Why are you crying, mister?” Maya asked, her voice small and clear.
May you like
Victor dropped to both knees in the dirt, completely uncaring of his expensive trousers or his pride. “Because... because you look just like someone I loved very much.”
Maya reached into the pocket of her denim jacket and pulled out a small, tarnished silver swallow locket on a delicate chain. “My mama gave me this. She told me it was magic. She said if I ever got lost, my uncle would follow the bird to find me.”
