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Chapter 4

The house was once again extremely silent, as if I were the only one still living. The unease from the previous day lingered, and I found myself roaming around the mansion's endless hallways to find out what was going on with Ethan and his estate.

I felt drawn to explore deeper into the house and wander around in rooms full of dusty old stuff and memories.

With each step, I felt like I was crossing a new line, moving closer to discovering something I wasn't sure I was ready for. However, as is customary, my curiosity got the better of me. As I turned a corner, I discovered a small room that seemed out of place in the big house. It wasn't as nice as the others; the wallpaper was faded and there was just one window that allowed in a sliver of light.

I hesitated in the doorway because I felt a strange attraction to this chamber, as if it held a secret just for me. I noticed it after gazing around the room. There found a picture nestled into an old wooden table, among other things. It was yellowed from age, and the corners were curled in, as if to shelter the image from the passage of time. I snatched the photo and stared at it, my breath stuck in my throat.

It was of Ethan when he was younger, possibly in his early twenties, standing with a woman. Her brown hair fell in waves about her shoulders. She had bright, pleasant eyes when she looked at the camera. Her beauty, however, did not make my heart skip a beat. It was the fact that she looked so much like me. I tried to figure out what the picture signified. They looked remarkably similar, down to the contour of her face and the little inclination of her head. What was her appearance like? Another question is why she resembled me so much.

I looked at the back of the picture in the hopes of finding some information, but it was blank, so it didn't help. There were so many thoughts racing through my head—was this woman related? Someone who has previously been important to Ethan? Why was he still hiding this picture in a room he'd forgotten about?

When I considered what it meant, a shiver ran down my spine. There has to be something in common between Ethan and this woman. This image kept making me think it was a piece of a larger jigsaw that I was only now beginning to solve. When I heard the door open behind me, my thoughts was somewhere else. When I sensed someone in the room, I looked up to see Ethan standing in the corridor.

He stared at the image I was holding, and for a little moment, I had a feeling I couldn't quite put my finger on.

“Hey, who exactly is she?” I inquired calmly. "Why is she so much like me?"

The little weakness in Ethan's expression vanished almost as fast as it emerged. He stepped forward but did not reach for the photograph. Instead, he stayed away, and his icy exterior slipped back into place like a mask.

"It doesn't concern you," he replied, his voice chilly. "Return the picture."

What he said hurt, and I felt a surge of rage well up within me. I gripped the photograph tighter and added, "It bothers me. You can't ignore this, Ethan. What is her physical appearance? Why am I exactly like her?"

For a moment, I thought he'd respond. He turned away and stiffened his jaw, as if unsure how much to say. When he shook his head, the wall between us grew firmer again.

"It's from a long time ago," he stated quietly. "An old story that doesn't concern you."

“What if —” I started, but he stopped me. His voice was stern when he said, "Leave it alone, Lila. Some things are better kept from happening again."

His tone was like a door slamming shut, and I knew he wouldn't answer any further inquiries. When I glanced at him, I noticed a break in his armor and a trace of pain in his eyes, which he was trying to cover. This woman, no matter who she was, had and still does mean something to him.

With a heavy heart and a list of unanswered questions, I regretfully returned the photo to the table. Despite the fact that Ethan was ready to leave, I spoke again, but this time in a softer tone. “Who's she and what happened to her?"

He came to a halt at the doorway, face away from me. He did not speak or move for a long time. "She's gone," he murmured in a voice so low that I nearly missed it. He then exited the room, leaving me alone with the photograph on the table, looking like a ghost from the past.

I felt awful for Ethan because of the suffering he was bearing, but I couldn't shake the sensation that the narrative was more than what he was giving me. As I stood there, the house appeared to press in around me. The walls were screaming mysteries that I couldn't decipher. I had no idea what to do and felt more bewildered than ever. Who was the woman, and why did she resemble me? What had happened to her?

What was scarier was that I had to figure out why I was growing increasingly intrigued in Ethan, a man as mysterious as the house. Even though he was chilly, something about him made me want to tear down the walls he had built around himself. I understood that getting closer to Ethan would mean delving deeper into the darkness that surrounded him, as well as into his sad and secret past. And I had to do it, despite my fears.

I exited the room after one last look at the photograph. My mind was racing with images of the lady who resembled me, the guy who had loved her, and the path I was now pursuing, which appeared to be leading me deeper into the mystery of Ethan Cross.

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