Whispered Echoes: The Enigma House

It all started with a book.

I hid it in the antechamber, behind the old tapestries, before I lost my nerve. And then they showed up, as they always do: my family. Loud and chaotic, just like always. My father gave me a present; a new dress, just like always. My mother gave me her gift; a kiss on the forehead, just like always. My older sisters were talking about their suitors and I was glad to be away from them and their endless chatter. But then, I saw him and suddenly my heart was racing. He walked into the room and suddenly every inch of me felt alive and I wanted nothing more than for him to look at me, for him to notice me. His face was solemn, his eyes were distant and he didn't even smile when everyone else greeted him. He walked through the room like a ghost and soon he was gone; back to his work I suppose.

My father noticed my disappointment and said "What's wrong? Why are you not happy?" He stopped walking around the room and stood in front of me.

"Oh father, it is nothing." I knew that if I said anything my mother would see right through it and she would order me to tell her what was wrong right now!

"No daughter of mine has been unhappy after getting a very fine new dress! Is there something you are hiding from us?" My father's voice was stern but I could hear the worry in it too. I smiled at him and he seemed satisfied with my answer because he turned to talk with some other guests who had arrived late into our house.

I saw him again that night when we sat down for dinner together as a family. Our cook had made far too much food as usual but we were used to that by now so we simply helped ourselves until we got our fill. As usual my older sisters were whispering about their suitors while my younger brothers ate quickly while trying hard not to make any noise. Everyone seemed tired since it had been pouring rain all day long so no one talked much during dinner or afterwards in the living room when we sat down together to drink tea while listening to music played on my sister's flute and guitarra.

I looked over at him once more but he wasn't looking at me this time either so I didn't get up from where I was sitting but instead let myself fall back against the armchair's seat rest and stared at the ceiling above me which was decorated with beautiful paintings depicting scenes from ancient myths. They were mostly stories about gods fighting each other but there were also some paintings depicting people doing extraordinary things; flying among animals like birds or swimming beneath the sea with fish as friends instead of enemies.

He wasn't looking at me because he couldn't look at anyone today because his brother had died yesterday when he fell off his horse while riding home after visiting his sweetheart whose name no one knew except those who knew him well enough to call her by name: Kyda... The thought of her name brought tears to his eyes so he looked away from everyone else since he didn't want anyone seeing him cry over her loss... Kyda... She hadn't even been born yet when he first met her sister but still she reminded him of Kyda all the time because she was just like her; she reminded him of Kyda whenever she smiled at him or whenever she looked at him with her big beautiful blue eyes filled with wonder... She reminded him of Kyda whenever she talked about her future wedding day and told him how happy she was that they would finally be married soon... She reminded him of Kyda whenever she said goodnight to his mother before going upstairs to bed because she remembered how Kyda used to do the same thing... She reminded him of Kyda whenever she kissed his mother's cheek before going up for bed because she remembered how Kyda used to do that too... And most of all she reminded him of Kyda whenever he closed his eyes and thought about what might have happened if only he hadn't refused her marriage proposal... What if they had gotten married? What if they had managed to change things? What if they had never met each other? What if they had never fallen in love? Or better yet: What if death never found them both? One month ago Kyda died when she fell off a tall cliff that led out of their village... One month ago his brother died after falling off his horse while riding home after visiting his sweetheart whose name no one knew except those who knew him well enough to call her by name: Kyda... How could life be so cruel...? How could God allow such horrible things...? How could God allow such horrible people...? He couldn't bear thinking any longer so finally he decided to go outside into the garden under heavy rain where no one would see his tears anymore, not even himself... not even himself...

He stepped out into the garden, the rain pouring down on him, washing away the tears that had stained his face. The smell of wet earth filled his senses, mingling with the sweet fragrance of the vibrant flowers that adorned the garden. It was as if nature herself was trying to soothe his troubled soul.

Seeking solace, he wandered aimlessly among the overgrown bushes and winding paths, his mind consumed by memories of Kyda and his lost brother. How he longed to go back in time and rewrite their tragic fates. But the relentless march of time offered no such respite.

As he continued his melancholic journey, a familiar voice caught his attention. He turned to find himself face to face with Dalia. Her dress clung to her form, drenched by the rain, yet she remained poised and composed, her eyes harboring a mix of sympathy and understanding.

Without a word, she stepped closer, closing the distance between them. Rain dripped off her cheeks, mirroring the tears that still stained his face. With a gentle touch, she reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers as if seeking solace in their shared grief.

"I heard what happened," she whispered, her words carried away by the rain. "I'm so sorry."

He wanted to respond, to let the weight of his sorrow spill out and find solace in her empathy. But the words caught in his throat, choked by the pain that still lingered in his heart.

Dalia squeezed his hand, her touch warming his cold skin. "Sometimes, the most unbearable parts of life can only be lightened when shared," she said softly.

Her words resonated within him, their simple truth piercing through the fog of grief that had enveloped him. He leaned on her, his body weary from the weight of his sorrows. And in that moment, he found comfort in her presence, in her genuine compassion.

Days turned into weeks, and Dalia became his anchor in the tempest that raged within him. She listened, offering him solace in her quiet understanding. With each passing day, the cracks in his heart began to heal ever so slightly, replaced by the warmth of Dalia's unwavering support.

One evening, as the setting sun cast a golden hue over the garden, he found himself standing before the hidden entrance to the antechamber where he had hidden the book. The book that had ignited his passions, sparked his imagination, and ultimately led him to this place of profound grief and unexpected solace.

He turned to Dalia, his heart filled with gratitude. "Will you come with me?" he asked, his voice filled with newfound hope.

Dalia nodded, her eyes filled with trust. Together, they stepped into the antechamber, their footsteps echoing through the silent room. With hesitant hands, he pulled back the tapestries, revealing the book that had once held him captive.

As he opened the pages, the words came alive, weaving tales of love, loss, hope, and redemption. And in that sacred space, his grief transformed into art, his pain gave birth to new stories. With Dalia by his side, he emerged from the depths of sorrow, embracing his newfound purpose.

With every stroke of his pen, he immortalized the love he had lost, and in doing so, found a way to carry it with him. Through his stories, he honored Kyda's memory and his brother's legacy. And in the hearts of those who read his words, his voice became a balm for the weary soul, offering them solace and a glimpse of hope.

It all started with a book, but it was in the midst of grief that he discovered the transformative power of love and the indomitable spirit of the human heart. And he would spend the rest of his days giving life to stories that would touch the lives of others, just as Dalia had touched his.