That Voice

My father watched me with that gaze of his that always managed to cut right through me and leave me speechless.

"What happened?" he asked at last. His voice was soft but heavy with concern.

"I have an infection..." I replied, trying to smile. "He gave me a prescription, but I nearly threw up when he examined my throat..." I added, touching the back of my neck as if that could ease the discomfort.

He nodded slowly.

"No wonder your eyes are watery," he said tenderly. "When you were little, you always threw up whenever anything hurt."

He handed me the bottle of medication and, for a moment, I felt a small relief.

Not physical.

Emotional.

As if his presence were a shelter.

We walked to the car and, without warning, his tone shifted. It turned serious.

"I don't want you working anymore."

"What?" My voice cracked. "Why?"

"I never agreed with it. And now you've gotten sick. I already spoke with Rene's mother. You won't be going back to work."

"I'm not marrying him for his money," I replied, with a mix of pride and irritation.

"I know — you have your own money," he said. "But there's no need for you to work."

"I get bored at home," I sighed, watching through the window as the world rushed past too fast.

He was quiet for a few seconds.

"I dream that someday you and Yajaira can get along," he said finally, as if speaking of something possible.

I couldn't help letting out a dry laugh.

"Your daughter is impossible... and her mother is even worse."

"I know you avoid the house because of them," he replied, "but you should try to spend more time together."

I didn't respond.

We arrived at the dress shop. I stepped out of the car without enthusiasm.

The white lights, the mannequins, the flawless fabrics... everything felt heavy.

The dress hung before me like armor I didn't want to put on — not right now.

I smiled.

I nodded.

I pretended.

After a while, we got back in the car and drove home in silence.

I went up to my room, took the medication, and let myself fall onto the bed.

I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep.

But rest didn't come.

Something else did.

A dream.

A tall man.

His presence was overwhelming.

He pinned me with ease.

I'd never seen him before... and yet there was something about him that felt disturbingly familiar.

His blue eyes pierced through me.

His voice leaned toward my ear.

I tried to scream.

I couldn't.

I woke with a jolt, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering against my chest.

The room was dark, silent, broken only by the hum of the fan.

I got up and walked barefoot to the kitchen.

I needed water.

I needed to feel something cold.

That's when I heard voices.

"Yajaira is leaving and she needs money," my stepmother said, her tone trying to sound reasonable.

"And she'll have it," my father replied, "but Ania's money is not to be touched."

"Why? They're both your daughters."

"I won't touch the money her mother left."

"We're going bankrupt," she insisted. "That money could save the company. You're the executor. You can use it."

"I already said no."

I heard footsteps retreating.

I took a sip of water, trying to calm the anxiety settling in my chest, and went back upstairs to my room.

The moment I lay down, my phone buzzed.

Rene.

For an instant, I managed to forget everything.

Tonight was his bachelor party.

"Hey, baby. I'm with the guys," he said. Music blared in the background.

"Have fun," I replied, though my smile was weak.

"By the way... I invited my half-brother to the wedding."

"Half-brother?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. My mom had a son from her first marriage. He distanced himself from us, but I ran into him here. Actually... he's coming over right now."

My pulse quickened.

"This is my fiancee," Rene said. "Say hi."

And then I heard that voice.

"Hello, Miss Anastasia."

My body went rigid.

That voice...

It couldn't be a coincidence.

It was the exact same voice I'd heard in my dream.

Fear coiled in my throat as my mind tried to decide whether this was real...

or whether my memory was finally beginning to wake.

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