Would they ever see each other again? Night descended upon the city, enveloping every street, every house, and every soul in a silent, cold blanket. In the luxurious mansion where Ashton lived with his parents, the silence was broken only by Penelope’s restless sighs as she tossed and turned in bed. The covers tangled around her feet as she fought a nightmare that seemed more real by the second.
Lying beside her husband, the businesswoman emitted distressed murmurs. Her face, normally serene, was contorted into an expression of despair. Afonso, bothered by his wife’s constant movement, opened his eyes and let out an impatient sigh.
With little finesse, he turned and shook her shoulders. Wake up, Penelope, he said, irritated. The woman abruptly opened her eyes, gasping for breath, and sat up in bed, her hands pressed against her rapidly beating heart.
No, don’t take him! My son! She screamed, her voice filled with the terror of the nightmare. Afonso leaned forward and held her hands, trying to bring her back to reality. Calm down, darling, calm down.
Ashton is fine. He’s sleeping soundly in his room, he asserted, attempting to sound convincing. Penelope’s eyes searched desperately for something to anchor her to reality.
She recognized the room illuminated by the soft light of the bedside lamp, felt the touch of her husband, heard the distant ticking of the clock on the wall. Then, in a tremulous whisper, she murmured. It was all a dream.
Afonso, already accustomed to those episodes, leaned back against the headboard and watched her, knowing the nightmare was nothing new. He waited patiently as she ran her hands over her face, trying to push away the remnants of fear. The same dream again? he asked, in a tone somewhere between weariness and resignation.
Penelope nodded, her voice breaking as she began to relate. I was in the hospital. I was about to give birth.
My belly was so big, Afonso, it felt like it was going to explode. I saw the first baby born. I held him in my arms, felt his warmth.
It was our Ashton, our prince. But I knew there was another. She said, her eyes brimming with tears.
She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to hold back the tears that insisted on falling. But when the second one was born, she continued, her voice faltering, he was taken away. I didn’t even get to see him or touch him.
I just saw him being carried away. Penelope’s heart clenched again, as if reliving the pain in that very instant. Afonso sighed, struggling to remain calm.
You need to see a psychiatrist, Penelope. This isn’t normal. You need professional help to erase these dreams from your head.
It’s the same dream every time. My love, we only had one child. You were only pregnant with Ashton.
They weren’t twins. He suggested, attempting to sound understanding. Penelope, however, didn’t answer immediately.
Her lost gaze crossed the room while his mind traveled to the past. She remembered the pregnancy as if it were yesterday. The exaggerated size of her belly at only six months.
The constant visits to the obstetrician. How she commented to Afonso, full of hope, that she felt two hearts beating inside her. I was so sure.
She murmured, her voice thick with emotion. So sure there were two. It wasn’t just a feeling.
It was as if I knew them already, even before they were born. She saw herself again in that doctor’s office, hearing the sonographer state that there was only one baby. She felt the disappointment, but also the disbelief.
Until the day of the delivery, she expected two cries, two small bodies in her arms, but only Ashton came into the world. The present pulled her back when she felt Afonso’s touch. Honey, let’s leave this behind us.
You’ll seek help tomorrow. I’ll go with you if you want. He said, trying to end the conversation.
Penelope nodded with a slight movement of her head. Afonso turned off the bedside lamp and lay down again, falling asleep in a few minutes. But Penelope remained awake, staring at the dark ceiling.
Why did these dreams persist? Why did that pain, that sense of loss, never leave her? With her eyes burning with exhaustion, she promised herself that, at dawn, she would try to leave the past behind once and for all, and worry only about Ashton, her son, and great love, the only one she had. The following morning, the sun rose shyly, bathing the room in a soft golden light. Tired but determined, Penelope rose, dressed with her customary elegance, and kissed her sleeping husband’s forehead before descending for breakfast.
With everyone at the table, she asked, I’ll take Ashton to school and then head to the company. Will you join me? She said, adjusting her purse as Ashton at the table finished his breakfast. Afonso, already dressed in casual attire, smiled, though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.
I’ll be along a bit later, dear. I need to stop by my sister’s house first. Upon hearing this, Ashton’s expression immediately darkened.
A quick, discreet frown betrayed his discomfort. Penelope, busy, didn’t notice, but Afonso saw and pretended to ignore it. A few minutes later, mother and son departed.
As soon as the sound of the car faded away, Afonso dropped his mask of serenity. His face hardened into a dark, severe expression. He picked up the phone with trembling hands, dialed a familiar number, and when the call was answered, spoke in a low voice, laden with tension.
Penelope is having these dreams about twin children more and more often. I fear she might somehow discover what happened on the day of Ashton’s birth. He paused, glancing around as if fearing someone might overhear him, even though he was alone.
I’m on my way there. We need to talk. I need your help to get this story out of her head before it’s too late.
Without waiting for a response, he abruptly hung up the phone. Afonso grabbed his car keys with quick movements and walked out the front door, his heart racing and his mind in turmoil. The secret he had struggled so hard to bury seemed, little by little, to be emerging from the depths, and if it came to light, everything he had achieved would crumble like a house of cards.
A few hours later, at Ashton’s school, while the establishment throbbed with the rhythm of learning, the young millionaire found himself distant, lost in thought. His vacant gaze stared at the blackboard, but his mind was far away. The teacher, noticing his distraction, gently called his attention.
Ashton, is everything alright? You seem distracted today. She said, approaching his desk. The boy quickly looked up and replied, Sorry, teacher.
I didn’t sleep well last night, he said, forcing a smile. The teacher, knowing him well as one of the institution’s best students, simply nodded, deciding to overlook the lapse in attention. Ashton tried to refocus on the lesson, but it was like trying to hold water in his hands.
The image of the previous day kept intruding into his mind. The face of the dirty boy, so identical to his own, wouldn’t leave his thoughts. How could there be someone so like him? When the recess bell rang, the young millionaire got up quickly, almost running over his classmates.
He was walking towards the courtyard when Hazel, his classmate and best friend, ran after him. Ashton, wait up, she called, breathless. The boy stopped and turned to face his friend.
Hazel looked at him with concern. What’s going on? You’re acting strange today. You haven’t even spoken to me properly.