Two years now. I'd settled in Niaube under a false identity, built awooden house facing the ocean, and opened this little shop called "Faraway Handicrafts."
All of this thanks to Lorenzo—if he hadn't known friends among the Maka people, I never would have been accepted here.
I painted the landscapes from my travels—Iceland's aurora, Norway's fjords, New Zealand's glowworm caves—onto ceramics and wove them into tapestries, creating various handicrafts.
Business wasn't booming, but it was enough to support Leo and me.
My successful escape was thanks to a code system Zoe and I had established during her obsession with murder mystery games. During the days when Kholod had relaxed his guard, I gradually transmitted distress signals through paintings and paint colors.
She contacted the Women's Aid Organization through a friend, and this place was provided by sisters in the organization. The paintings I sent out were indeed handled by a professional framing shop. Zoe had thought everything through carefully, even venturing deep into the mountains beforehand to paint landscapes—according to her, even hunting dogs couldn't find tracks there.
Now I lived here under the false identity "Tara," with no one knowing my past. I could finally be myself again.
"Knock, knock, knock."
The knocking came, and before I could respond, Lorenzo pushed the door open.
"Tara, I bought..." He saw Leo in the cradle and immediately lowered his voice. "Is he sleeping?"
"No, he's playing. What did you buy?"
"Roofing materials." He set down his bag. "It leaked again last night during the rain. While the weather's good today, I'll help you fix it."
"You're always going to so much trouble..."
"Don't say that." He cut me off, walking to the cradle. "Hey, little guy!"
Seeing him, Leo immediately babbled excitedly, his hands and feet dancing with joy.
"Come here, let me hold you." Lorenzo carefully lifted the child. "Tara, I'll take him to my place to play while you work."
"Okay, thank you."
Watching Lorenzo carry Leo toward the back door, complex emotions surged in my chest.
After that incident, Lorenzo had moved here too. His public identity had long since left Philadelphia, and now he lived in a wooden house not far away.
This past year, he'd constantly helped me—fixing the roof, unclogging pipes, moving heavy things, watching Leo...
He was like a reliable older brother, always appearing when I needed him. The obsession and fanaticism had faded from his eyes, leaving only quiet tenderness.
That evening, I went to pick up Leo.
"Thank you for watching him today."
"You're welcome." He handed the sleeping Leo to me. "Tara, I want to tell you something."
"What is it?"
"About that incident at the café." His expression grew serious. "I've always wanted to tell you the truth."
"The truth?"
"Yes." He nodded. "That day I got a call from Isabella saying you wanted to see me. She said you were waiting for me at Rittenhouse Palm Pavilion, that you had something important to tell me, and specifically asked me to bring flowers."
My heart sank.
"She... really said that?"
