Chapter 8

Before turning off the light, he took out his worn leather notebook from the drawer. It was a ritual he had begun after Amelia's disappearance: writing her a letter every night, letters he would never send. His pen, an instrument of silent confession, glided over the paper with an almost imperceptible whisper, as the words he dared not speak aloud filled the pages.

-Dear Amelia, -he began, as he did every night. -I know you will never receive this letter, and perhaps it's better that way. But I still feel the need to talk to you, even if it's from a distance, even if it's on this paper you will never read.

He sighed, pausing for a second. What else could he say to her that he hadn't already said in his thoughts, in his dreams, in his despair? Every word seemed futile against the chasm that had opened between them, but writing allowed him to keep her close, at least in his mind.

-Today, I thought of you more than usual. I felt your presence in every corner of this empty house. Sometimes I wonder if you knew how much I loved you, how much I still love you. It hurts to know I didn't believe you, that I wasn't the man you needed. Every day, I'm tormented by the idea that you left because of me, because of my blindness and my misplaced loyalty to my mother. I failed you, Amelia. I know it's too late for regrets, but not a single day passes without me wondering where you are, how you are, if I will ever get the chance to ask for your forgiveness.

He stopped for a moment, his trembling hands resting on the notebook. It was an exercise in pain, but also in hope. Deep in his heart, he still harbored the fantasy that one day Amelia would return. That she would come home, forgive him, and they could heal together. But that hope grew fainter with each passing day.

-I don't know if I'll ever find you, if I'll ever be able to look into your eyes and tell you what I should have told you when you were still here. It hurts to know that you've probably built a new life, a life without me. And if that's the case, I will accept it, but I wanted you to know that every night, before I sleep, I think of you. And I will keep writing to you, even if you never read my words, even if fate never brings us together again. You will always be my Amelia.

With a lump in his throat, Lorenzo closed the notebook and placed it back in the drawer. The letters had silently accumulated over three years, a collection of regrets and words that would never leave his mouth. He turned off the light, but the emptiness in his bed was heavier than any darkness.

He knew that the next day he would return to his daily battle to save his company, but he also knew that at the end of each day, he would continue writing. Because it was the only way he could keep Amelia alive in his heart.

While Lorenzo wrote his letter, across the continent, Amelia was trying to fall asleep. If only she knew that the man she thought she had left behind thought of her every night, perhaps her decisions would have been different. But for now, they were both trapped in their own loneliness, united only by the memories of a love that still burned silently.

The next day began with a storm on the horizon in Paris, dark clouds that seemed to mirror the emotional turmoil nesting in Amelia's heart. While Mateo played in his room, she tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept drifting to the meeting she would have with Lorenzo that afternoon. The truth pressed heavily on her chest, as if an invisible thread tied her to him, a thread she couldn't break no matter how hard she tried.

She decided to distract herself and immersed herself in the jewelry designs she had been creating. Pearls and diamonds gleamed under the dim studio light, but as she delved into her work, memories of Lorenzo flooded her mind again-the way he smiled, the sparkle in his eyes when they shared laughter, the stolen moments that now felt so distant.

Finally, the time for the meeting arrived, bringing with it a mix of nervousness and determination. She connected to the video call, and Lorenzo's face appeared on the screen, more serious and worried this time. His expression revealed the weight he carried on his shoulders.

-Margaret, -Lorenzo began, his tone betraying his anxiety, -we've had some issues with our suppliers. I don't know how we can move forward without your vision.

Amelia felt a lump in her throat. Every word Lorenzo said resonated in her heart, and although she knew she had to keep her distance, the love she still felt for him made her want to help him in any way possible.

-Lorenzo, I have some ideas that might work. If we work together, we could find a solution, -she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

He momentarily brightened, that familiar spark in his eyes making her wish things were different.

-Thank you, Margaret. Your perspective has always been invaluable to me.

As they discussed strategies, Amelia realized their connection was stronger than she had imagined. Every interaction with Lorenzo seemed to rekindle the feelings she thought she had buried. However, the truth she was hiding grew heavier with every word they exchanged.

When the meeting ended, Lorenzo seemed hesitant, as if something else was weighing on his mind.

-Margaret, there's something I want to say... -he began, but suddenly, his gaze shifted, and concern crossed his face. -I'm not sure if I should.

Amelia felt her pulse quicken. Could it be possible he was starting to suspect?

-Please, tell me. I'm here to help, -she replied, even though part of her wanted him to stop.

Lorenzo took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead, as if searching for the right words.

-It's just that... ever since this collaboration began, I've had the feeling that... that I know you from somewhere. And it's strange because I can't remember where or when.

Amelia's heart pounded. She couldn't let Lorenzo reach that conclusion, not when the truth could destroy them both.

-It's possible you've heard my voice somewhere else, Lorenzo. Many people have similar voices, -she said, trying to downplay the situation.

He nodded, though his eyes still reflected doubt. The moment grew tense, and Amelia felt the air leave her lungs. She decided to change the subject.

-Let's talk about the designs. I think we have an opportunity with this new line, and we could attract new customers, -she suggested, focusing on work.

As they spoke, however, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen if the truth came to light. If Lorenzo discovered that Margaret was really Amelia, everything she had built over these years would crumble, and she wasn't sure she could bear the pain of that revelation.

The following day, fate had an unexpected twist in store for her...