Chapter 2:The Painted Shadows
The painting should have been easy to forget,
I had locked it in my private study the moment I reached home.
I placed it inside a drawer, closed it, and walked away without looking back.
I told myself I had work, calls and people who needed my attention.
But the painting stayed in my mind.
It sat there like a quiet shadow I couldn't shake off.
That night, I tried to sleep.
I lay in the dark room, eyes closed, breathing slow,
Yet every time I drifted close to sleep, the image returned.
The two children under the soft light,
The unfinished faces,
The glow behind them.
And that feeling…
I opened my eyes with a frustrated sigh,
The ceiling felt too close and the air felt too warm.
I pushed the blanket aside and sit on the edge of the bed.
Ridiculous,
It's was only a painting
A piece of canvas and old paint
That was all.
So why did it feel alive?
I ran a hand through my hair and stood up,
I walked across the quiet hallway and stopped in front of the study door.
I didn't turn on the lights, i didn't need to because I knew my way in the dark.
I opened the door slowly, the room was dark except for the faint glow of city lights outside.
Everything was neat
Black shelves
A glass desk
The faint scent of leather
I crossed the room and opened the drawer
The painting lay inside, wrapped in its brown paper,
Still untouched,
Still waiting.
I didn't want to unwrap it, I only wanted to see it… just once more
Just to be sure it was real.
I lifted the painting out and place it on the desk
The paper slid away easily.
The canvas lay bare in front of me, silent and strange.
The children sat exactly as before,
Close,
Glowing softly,
Yet I felt as if the painting looked different now.
My eyes fixed on the boy first-
The posture, the shoulders and the shape of his body size.
A memory flickered,light and soft.
A laugh
Warm afternoon
A small hand tugging at my sleeve.
But when I try to hold it, the memory slipped away.
I frowned.
My gaze shifted to the girl,
She felt familiar in a distant, unsettling way.
Like a dream I had woken from too quickly
I didn't know her face, but something about her pose,
the gentle tilt of her head.
It tuggi at me
I didn't like the feeling, it made me feel unsteady.
And I'm a man who lives on control,
I've built my life on structure and walls,
Everything in order.
But this painting broke through all of it.
I picked up the note again,
"Light survives in the one who remembers."
I hated riddles,
My mother barely spoke in riddles
She spoke plainly
She taught me plainly
So why this?
Why leave something I couldn't understand?
I set the note down and stepped back from the desk.
I didn't want any of it, I have a company to run,
A reputation to keep, and a life to maintain.
I have no space for shadows of the past.
But the painting stayed in my thoughts
Even now, as I tried to turn away, I felt the weight of it behind me.
I closed the drawer again, harder this time
Then I left the room and shut the door behind me.
But shutting the door didn't help.
In the hallway, I glanced at the empty frame on the wall, the one that once held one of my mother's old works.
I had removed it after her death, and I couldn't look at it.
Now the empty space felt louder, as if asking me why I'm running
I walked faster,
Down the stairs,
Into the kitchen,
I poured a glass of water, but my hand shook slightly.
I didn't understand but I wasn't scared
I took a slow drink
My phone buzzed on the counter,
Company messages
Meeting reminders
A note from my assistant about the quarterly report.
Normally, I would have answered immediately,
Not tonight.
I placed the phone face-down and leaned on the counter.
It's just a painting,
Just a note,
Just my mother's last message.
So why did it feel like the beginning of something I'm not prepared to face?
I stayed like that for a long moment-
thinking,
Trying to push away the heavy ache creeping into my chest.
Eventually, I walked back upstairs,
I didn't return to the study nor did I look in that direction.
I went straight to my room and lay down again.
But even with my eyes closed, I saw the painting,
I saw the boy,
I saw the girl,and the warm light around them.
And I heard something faint,
a laugh buried deep in my memory.
A child's laugh,
Soft,
Bright,
Familiar.
My eyes snapped open,
I sat up again, disturbed.
I didn't know the girl
I'm certain I've never seen her anywhere
So why did it feel like I once knew her better than anyone?
I raked my fingers through my hair and stare into the darkness.
I've spent years building walls around my heart, around my past,
Around the memory of the fire that took my mother from me.
I thought I had locked everything away.
But now the painting has opened a door I never wanted to touch again.
A small, unwanted truth slipped into my mind.
I won't be able to put the painting aside
Not when it was my mother's wish for it to reach me.
I lay back down slowly, one arm over my eyes.
The city glows outside the window
But inside me, something old began to wake
Something I thought I had forgotten.