Chapter 3 (Fl POV)

I stared at the name on the photograph—Aria—the ink smudged by seawater and time.

Something inside me twisted.

Aria is not my name.

But that truth… it wasn’t something I could share.Not yet. Maybe not ever.

I glanced up at Elias and Mira. They were watching me with such soft eyes, such kindness. Like I was some lost, helpless girl they had found and brought back to life.

If they knew the truth...

If they knew who I really was...

What I’d seen. What I’d done.

What I was running from…

Their kindness would vanish. Just like everyone else's.

No one looks at a monster with gentle eyes.

I slowly wrapped my fingers around the photograph and nodded faintly.

"Aria..." I whispered, swallowing hard, forcing the name through my throat.

"Maybe that’s me..."

Mira smiled, as if relieved to finally have something to call me.

“It’s a beautiful name.”

I offered a weak smile, nodding again, masking the storm rising behind my eyes.

I had to keep the act up. For now, I had to be Aria.

I couldn’t afford questions. I couldn’t risk truths. Inside, my thoughts spiraled like smoke.

I turned away slightly, letting Mira fluff the pillows behind me.

“Thank you,” I murmured. “For saving me. For not asking too much.”

Elias nodded kindly.

“You’re welcome here as long as you need, Aria.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

Aria.

A name that wasn’t mine.

A mask I had to wear...

Until I remembered who I really was—

And whether she was worth saving.

Just as I tried to settle into the silence, a low growl escaped from my stomach.

Embarrassed, I placed a hand over it, but Mira heard it immediately. She smiled warmly.

"You’re hungry," she said with a chuckle. "Of course you are. You’ve barely had anything in three days."

She stood and brushed off her apron. "I’ll make you something light. A warm, healthy soup will do you good."

She turned toward the door but paused halfway, glancing back at Elias. Her tone softened—gentle, but concerned.

"Don’t let her get up, Elias. She needs rest."

Elias gave a small nod, his expression thoughtful.

"I know," he murmured. "I’m just coming..."

Mira smiled once more at me before disappearing through the door.

Elias stayed behind, his old bones shifting slightly as he rose to his feet. The wooden chair creaked beneath him.

Then, unexpectedly, he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed beside me.

With surprising tenderness, he reached out and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. His hand was rough and warm.

"You know," he said softly, voice barely above a whisper, "we have a daughter too."

He paused, his eyes distant, filled with some old sorrow.

"Her name... was also Aria."

My breath caught.

"She would’ve been your age now," he continued, trying to smile through the ache.

"Same sharp eyes. Same fire."

His gaze lingered on me, not with suspicion, but something deeper—hope wrapped in grief.

I didn’t know what to say. The silence between us grew thick. I hated how familiar her name sounded on his lips. Like I’d stolen it from a ghost.

"I’m sorry," I said quietly, unsure why I felt the need to apologize.

Elias simply nodded, patting my hand gently.

"Rest, child. Names don’t matter as much as hearts. And yours..." He looked at me one last time, "Yours feels like it’s been through a war."

And with that, he stood and followed Mira out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

My fingers curled around the photograph again. Their daughter... AriaWhat had happened to her?

And why did it feel like this name—the name I’d claimed—was both a shield and a curse?

I wasn’t her.

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