Whispers of the Past

Chapter Thirty One - A Sister? A Rival?

THIRD PERSON'S POV

The quaint cottage, nestled amidst rolling English hills, held Atiye's breath captive. Each knock on the door sent a jolt through her, each creak of the floorboards amplifying her anticipation. Anya. Could it truly be her sister, alive and breathing after all these years?

Finally, the awaited knock came.

The woman who opened the door was a stranger, yet a startling echo of Anya in the photograph. Her eyes, wide with surprise, mirrored the same shade of golden brown. But recognition was absent, replaced by a polite wariness.

Atiye poured her heart out, sharing fragments of their shared past, of a life Anya supposedly never had. Each detail bounced off a wall of blankness, leaving Atiye's heart heavy with disappointment. Timothee said he will be with her in two days. Now probably he was the only hope left to solve this puzzle.

Two days bled into one another, each sunrise echoing Atiye's mounting worry. Anya, the ghost of her sister, remained frustratingly distant, the fragments of their shared past failing to spark recognition. Sleep was a stranger, replaced by haunted nights consumed by whispered stories and unanswered questions.

One evening, as twilight painted the sky in hues of violet and orange, Anya, lost in thought on the porch swing, startled at the creak of the gate. Timothee stood there, his familiar face etched with concern and love.

A jolt shot through Atiye. Hope flickered, fragile yet insistent. But Anya's reaction wasn't what she expected. A flicker of recognition crossed her face, then morphed into confusion. "Who are you?" she asked, her voice polite yet distant.

Timothee's smile faltered, replaced by a look of stunned disbelief. Atiye watched, her heart sinking with each passing second. Hadn't he been the missing piece, the key to unlocking Anya's memories?

As if sensing her despair, Timothee gently reached out, his hand hovering over Anya's. An inexplicable tension filled the air. Then, tentatively, he took her hand in his.

The moment their skin touched, a gasp escaped Anya's lips. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body swaying as if caught in a whirlwind. Memories, long buried, surged to the surface: stolen kiss under starlit sky, whispered promises, the warmth of his embrace.

Then, abruptly, she pulled away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and joy. "Timmy?" she breathed, her voice trembling.

Hope flared in Atiye's chest, only to be doused by the next words. Anya threw her arms around Timothee, tears streaming down her face. "You're here! All these years…" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Atiye watched, her smile fracturing. The reunion she had longed for was happening, but not in the way she imagined. Her sister, her anchor, seemed lost in a past that excluded her.

"You need to hear me out first.." Timothee tried to talk to Anya.

"Timothee.. " a cold voice of Atiye stopped him. He saw raw pain in her eyes.  "Not now.. " Atiye's voice trembled.

"But.." Timothee couldn’t finish her sentence as Anya dragged him into a kiss, her emotions swinging between elation and confusion.

Timothee, torn between his past love and the woman standing beside him, couldn't kiss her back, he instantly pulled himself and offered comfort and support by hugging her, his gaze lingering on Atiye with unspoken concern.