Revelations:

Philipides Mansion, Athens. September 2022

Kira:

— Yolie is missing. Since February, she hasn't responded to the messages I've left for her on WhatsApp .- I protest.
—Maybe she's too busy.

I frown at Patrick. I can't understand why he doesn't see the seriousness of what I'm telling him. He remains there, sitting on the couch besides me, comfortably checking emails and replying to messages on his tablet like nothing’s happened.

I move the tablet out of his sight with an impatient but careful movement, I want him to pay attention to me, not have the electronic device shattered.

—I have a bad feeling, Patrick. Something had to have happened to her. She is not like that. She is not one of those people who easily forgets her friends.

I see him sigh, he looks at me compassionately and gently caresses my head with A hand. I understand what is happening instantly, he knows something and he doesn’t want to tell me.

—Patrick, what haven't you told me?-I whisper using my most accusing tone.

He gives me a quick kiss on the lips, then finds a file on his tablet and hands it to me. Opening the folder my eyes widen.

The file contains dozens of photographs, of Yolie, she's changed, she looks much more...adult, serious, I don't know; but what has absolutely blown me away is the baby that my friend is holding in her arms.

—It's her son. He was born in March. That is why she has been missing from social networks. She doesn't want us to know about the baby.
—Why?

— I suspect that Alexandros is the father.

I feel my jaw drop, getting lost between my feet on the ground.

—Yolie had a son, by Alex?- I ask incredulously.

— It is very rare, practically impossible. But the dates coincide with the last time they...well.

—The summoning ceremony in the Villa's garden?-I ask, swallowing hard.

— Yes.

I bite my nails for a moment.

—You realize that if things had been different, that baby would be yours.- I comment half stunned.

Patrick shakes his head no.

— No kitty, I don't think so. I suspect the Sorceress's hand is in all this. Somehow she managed to ensure that her heiress became pregnant. Perhaps, it was the only way to make up for the loss of Alex.

I raise my eyebrows.

— Yes. That's why Yolie seemed so excited, she even told me that she would soon meet the man of her life. He wasn't referring to a romantic interest…
I look at the last photograph, it captures Yolie from the side, she is sitting on a park bench holding the baby in front of her face, while she cuddles him and the child smiles. He is a beautiful boy, with curly black hair and flushed cheeks. If he was born in March, he must be about six months old.

—She was referring to her son.

—Yes.

Patrick takes my hand and squeezes it in his.

— At least the witch was not left completely alone.

Tears fill my eyes. It is the most bittersweet play I have ever seen fate make.

— What name have she given him?

Patrick smiles, a slight shadow of sadness crosses his eyes.

—Alejandro, the little one is called Alejandro.

— It's the Spanish version of his father's name, right?

— Yes.

I squeeze Patrick's hand in mine.

—Do you think it's a worthy tribute to his memory?- I ask.

He looks at the photo of the child for a moment, then meets my gaze, visibly moved.
— It is the greatest tribute of all.

Abu Gurayb Prison, Iraq:

The prisoner looked at the wall of his cell. According to his calculations, it had been a full year since he had been deprived of his liberty.
The lines drawn on the wall resembled wounds, he caressed the line he had just drawn, every day he stayed away from the woman he loved increased the danger that she would forget him.

He was scared.

A terrible fear had taken possession of his soul, he lived in constant agony at the thought that he would die here, locked up, incommunicado, being treated like an animal. The tortures did not hurt him, the blows did not cause him pain. His suffering was internal. His agony would only find relief when he saw himself in the arms of his much yearned brunette.

He had been a fool. He had been a fool to let her slip through his fingers so easily. Now he knew exactly what his arrogance and blindness had cost him. He had given her up for the stupidest reasons in the world. He had believed that he did not deserve her, had convinced himself that it was best to let her go, that he had hurt her too much, that he had broken her heart and that the girl would not really forgive him. Not to the point of giving him a second chance.

— Se agapó, mikrí mou mágissa.

Were the last words he said to his beloved, before disappearing from Villa Philipides. When he suddenly found himself inside that cave he thought thousands of things, hours later the soldiers found him wandering aimlessly through the mountain and took him prisoner.

A year had passed, three hundred and sixty-five days of pure and constant agony. What if she doesn't love me anymore? What if she has already forgotten me? What if she has found in another man what I refused to give her? The prisoner martyres himself with his thoughts.
In his dark and damp cell he has understood that his true enemy is not the soldiers who hold him against his will, but the inexorable passage of time.