Whispers of the Past

Chapter Twenty Eight - Past Calling

THIRD PERSON'S POV:

Sunlight streamed through the windows of their yellow haven, painting the walls in a warm glow. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scent of lilies, courtesy of Jenevi's thoughtful gesture. Atiye sat at the kitchen table, the worn photograph spread before her, its faded image a stark contrast to the vibrant life she shared with Timothee and their family.

"Timothee," she began, her voice barely a whisper, "I can't do this anymore. Not knowing. Not carrying this weight of silence."

Timothee, seated beside her, reached out and covered her hand with his. His calloused fingers intertwined with hers, offering silent support. He knew the pain etched on her face mirrored the turmoil within her.

"What do you need to do, Atiye?" he asked gently.

"I need answers," she said, her voice gaining strength with each word. "Answers they never gave me. Why did they take Amaya and not me? Why did they keep me hidden? Who is my Father?"

Curtis, ever the pragmatist, spoke up from across the table. "Have you tried reaching out to them directly?"

Atiye shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "I had no idea about where they were. I only knew my mother's name and those few photographs!  That's all I had! I don't even know who my father is!It's like I don't exist to them. It's Timothee by whom I learned about Amaya's family. That's it. That's the information I have now."

Jenevi, her gaze laced with empathy, placed a hand on Atiye's shoulder. "Then maybe it's time for a different approach. Face-to-face. Show them you're not just a name from their past, but a living, breathing person seeking the truth."

The idea sparked a flicker of hope in Atiye's eyes. "England," she murmured, tracing the country name on the back of the photo. "That's where they are, right?"

Timothee nodded. "I can make some arrangements. Discreetly, of course. You shouldn't have to face this alone."

Atiye met his gaze, her eyes filled with gratitude. "I don't want to. I wouldn't want to. But I need to do this, Timothee. For myself, for Amaya, for whoever my father may be."

The following days were a whirlwind of activity. Visas were obtained, flights booked, and an itinerary meticulously planned by Curtis, ensuring Atiye's privacy and safety. The warmth of their yellow haven felt like a comforting anchor amidst the churning emotions within her.

One evening, as they sat on the porch swing, the scent of jasmine filling the air, Atiye looked at Timothee, her voice laced with apprehension. "What if they don't have answers? What if it all leads to more questions?"

Timothee took her hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on her palm. "Then we'll face those questions together, Atiye. Just like we face everything else. Remember, you're not alone in this. You have me, you have Jenevi, you have Curtis. And most importantly, you have your own strength."

His words, filled with unwavering love and support, calmed the storm within her. She squeezed his hand, a silent promise reflected in her eyes. This journey wouldn't be easy, but she wouldn't let fear hold her back any longer. It was time to reclaim her past, and she wouldn't do it alone. She had her chosen family, and together, they would face whatever awaited them in the land across the sea.

With a newfound resolve shimmering in her eyes, Atiye looked towards the horizon, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. England awaited, and with it, the hope of answers, of closure, and perhaps, a new chapter in her life. As she boarded the plane hand-in-hand with Timothee, a single thought echoed in her mind:

"This is my story, and I'm finally ready to write it."