Chapter 27
“Ivana…” Ernest’s voice reached them just
as Ivana closed the door behind her.
She didn’t hesitate. With a resolute click,
she shut him out, cutting off even the faintest possibility of further entanglement.
Inside, Ivana turned her attention back to Winston’s wounds, gently cleaning and reapplying medicine. Their interactions had grown more natural, free of the awkwardness they initially shared.
“Do you want revenge?” she asked softly, her voice steady as she tied the last bandage.
Winston’s eyes reddened, “If bringing them. to justice counts as revenge, then yes, I want it. Don’t you … hate them?”
“I do,” Ivana admitted, her tone measured but firm. “But some things are beyond us. I don’t want to destroy my life because of it.
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My parents traded their lives for mine. I can’t waste what they gave me. I want to live, to live well. And if the day comes. when I have the ability to uncover the truth and see justice served, I’ll do everything I can to make that happen. Until then, every day is a chance to love life.”
Tears glistened in Winston’s eyes as he pulled Ivana into a heartfelt embrace. Hist voice trembled, raw with emotion, “I’m so jealous of Ernest. He had five whole years. with you.”
Two wounded hearts finally found solace in each other, their pain melting away in the warmth of the moment. It wasn’t perfect, but it was honest, a mutual comfort that they both desperately needed.
“Ivana,” Winston murmured, his tone softer now, “The day after tomorrow is the weekend. I want to go back and visit my mother’s grave… and show her my future wife.”
The corners of Ivana’s mouth lifted slightly,
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“Future wife?” she teased, her eyes sparkling.
Winston ruffled her hair with a laugh, the atmosphere lightening as they moved forward.
But the moment was interrupted by a knock at the door, “I’ll get it.” Winston rose, heading to the door.
Ernest stood there again, persistent as ever. To Ivana, he was the embodiment of the phrase ‘haunting spirit.‘
Shuffling to the door in her slippers, she gave him an exasperated look. This time, he was neatly dressed and holding breakfast, as though this was a casual visit. “Ernest, there’s no chance for us,” she stated flatly.
“Why?” Ernest’s desperation showed. “Why, Ivana? I only made one mistake. Just one. Can’t you give me another chance? I’ll even let go of whatever happened between you and him, okay? We both made mistakes, it
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cancels out. Isn’t that fair?”
His words left Ivana equal parts amused and infuriated, “If you still think anything between us is unresolved, then listen closely now,” she said, stepping closer. “Your mother is the one who killed my parents. Ernest, I could never, will never, be with the son of my enemies. Do you understand that?”
The color drained from Ernest’s face as he stumbled back, “No… impossible. That’s not possible. My mom’s just a bit sharp- tempered, that’s all. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t kill anyone, let alone your parents!” His denial faltered, his words trembling as though even he didn’t believe
them.
“I’ll show you,” Ivana said, disappearing momentarily and returning with an old newspaper. She unfolded it and placed it in front of him. “You’re a year older than me, so you should remember this headline,” she continued. “Even if you didn’t, now you
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know.”
Ernest stared at the paper, then at Ivana and finally at Winston. Slowly, fragmented
memories surfaced.
Yes, he recalled the bitter complaints his mother made back then, spitting venom about a persistent woman who made her life unbearable.
He also remembered how his mother had become a laughingstock in elite circles, mocked because the daughter of a tycoon desperately clung to his father as a
mistress. His mother would storm home in a fury, shouting at his father, who bore her anger silently.
He even remembered his father slipping away to meet that woman, passing her money during heated arguments.
Then, one day, his father stopped seeing her. Not long after, news of a tragic fire broke. The fire had devoured the woman’s home and taken the lives of a neighboring
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couple as well.
At the time, young Ernest didn’t think much of it. When his mother gloated, declaring that their lives would finally have peace and that no one would come between their family anymore, he had been overjoyed. So much so that he had treated his entire class to imported chocolates in celebration.
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