CHAPTER 2: “THE NAME HE WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO SAY”
The moment Ethan asked the question, something in the air shifted.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But enough that the street itself felt like it paused to listen.
The little girl didn’t answer immediately.
She looked at him instead.
Not frightened.
Not confused.
Just… measuring.
As if she had been asked this question before.
Or as if she had been warned about it.
“My name is Lila,” she said finally.
Simple.
Clean.
Careful.
Ethan repeated it silently in his mind.
Lila.
It didn’t ring any bell.
And yet—
something inside him refused to accept that.
The bread in his hand felt heavier now.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
Like it carried meaning he hadn’t understood yet.
He looked at her more closely.
At her posture.
The way she stood slightly angled, like she was used to stepping aside for others.
The way she held herself too quietly for her age.
“You said I forgot how to breathe properly,” Ethan said slowly.
Lila nodded.
“You are still doing it wrong.”
That should have sounded childish.
But it didn’t.
It sounded learned.
Ethan lowered his gaze.
“I don’t know you,” he said.
Lila tilted her head again.
“That’s what you always say when you’re trying not to remember something.”
A sharp silence followed.
Ethan’s fingers tightened around the bread until it cracked slightly.
“Who taught you to speak like that?” he asked.
“My mother,” Lila replied instantly.
The word hit him harder than expected.
Mother.
Ethan felt something twist inside his chest.
Because Sophie had said the same things once.
Not in the same words.
But the same meaning.
Observant.
Uncomfortable truths spoken gently.
He swallowed.
“What was her name?” he asked.
Lila hesitated.
Just for a fraction longer than before.
Then answered:
“Sophie.”
The world didn’t explode.
It didn’t collapse.
It simply stopped making sense.
Ethan stood up so quickly the stone step scraped under him.
“You’re lying,” he said immediately.
But his voice lacked force.
Because something worse than disbelief was forming.
Recognition.
Lila didn’t move.
“I don’t lie,” she said softly. “You taught me that too.”
Ethan’s breath caught.
“I never met you.”
Lila looked down at the bread in his hand.
“You used to say that when you were scared.”
Ethan stepped back.
One step.
Then another.
The street around them continued as if nothing was happening.
But Ethan no longer felt part of it.
He felt separated from reality itself.
“Sophie didn’t have a child,” he said firmly.
Lila looked up at him then.
And for the first time—
something like sadness crossed her face.
“She did,” she said.
“Before she disappeared.”
Ethan shook his head.
“No. She left. We… ended.”
Lila’s voice stayed steady.
“She didn’t leave you.”
A pause.
“She was taken.”
The exact phrasing from his memory of loss.
But coming from a child.
Ethan felt his legs weaken slightly.
He sat back down slowly.
The bread slipped slightly in his hand.
“Taken by who?” he asked quietly.
Lila looked around the street.
Then leaned closer.
Her voice dropped.
“The same people who make sure you forget what hurts too much to remember.”
Ethan frowned.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Lila nodded.
“It’s not supposed to.”
A long silence stretched between them.
Then Ethan asked:
“Why are you here alone?”
Lila shrugged slightly.
“I’m not alone.”
“You are right now.”
She looked at him.
And said:
“I was sent to find you.”
Ethan’s stomach tightened.
“By who?”
Lila reached into her small pocket.
Pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Worn.
Softened by time.
She handed it to him.
Ethan hesitated before taking it.
When he opened it—
his hands stopped shaking.
Because it was a sketch.
A rough drawing.
Of him.
Standing outside a building.
Looking exactly as he looked now.
Down to the posture.
Down to the expression.
He looked up sharply.
“This is recent.”
Lila nodded.
“It was drawn yesterday.”
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“Who drew it?”
Lila answered simply:
“My mother.”
A cold silence fell between them.
Ethan stared at the drawing again.
“No,” he whispered. “Sophie is gone.”
Lila shook her head.
“She left because staying would have meant you disappearing too.”
Ethan felt something collapse internally.
Not belief.
Not memory.
Something more fragile.
Certainty.
And then—
a black car slowed at the end of the street.
Too slow.
Too deliberate.
Ethan noticed immediately.
So did Lila.
Her body stiffened slightly.
Ethan stood up again.
“What is that?” he asked.
Lila didn’t answer.
She just looked at the car.
And whispered:
“They found me faster than I expected.”
Ethan turned toward her instantly.
“Who are ‘they’?”
But Lila had already stepped closer to him.
And quietly said:
“If you want to remember her… you have to come with me.”
The car door opened.
A man stepped out.
Well-dressed.
Professional.
And unmistakably searching.
Ethan’s instincts screamed.
But before he could react—
Lila grabbed his hand.
And said:
“Don’t let them see you hesitate.”
