30
I gently patted Reik’s shoulder, wanting him to put me down.
He didn’t listen. He just carried me to the large sofa in the main hall.
“He’s ten years old. He understands,” Reik said, casually tossing his coat aside. “I explained everything to him a long time ago.”
In the time it took him to say those few words, Noah had come downstairs. He stood before me, a single step away, just looking at me.
We were both silent. I had no idea how to face the reality that this was my son.
In the end, it was Noah who spoke first.
“Dad said there was a fire. They lied to you and told you I was still inside, so you ran back in to find me.”
Noah stopped there. His voice was calm, his words clear. But as he finished, tears welled up in his dark eyes.
This time, seeing Noah’s tears, hearing his words, I felt as if I were back in the inferno of ten years ago.
I vaguely remembered something. Noah was just a baby then, still in his cradle. Reik wasn’t home. I had run into the fire to find him, to find my baby. The flames and thick smoke burned my eyes until I couldn’t see, but I didn’t hesitate to go upstairs. A burning beam collapsed onto my back. The fire licked at my hair, at my face.
-I never made it out of that fire.
