Chapter 6: Whispers of the Past
That night, sleep did not come easily for anyone in the estate. Clara lay awake in the quiet guest room, listening to the rain against the pane. She rubbed her stomach gently, feeling the quiet flutter of life within her.
She thought about Julian—his laughter, his warm hands stained with wood varnish, his soft voice telling her stories of the quiet life he always wanted. He had never spoken hatefully of his family, only sorrowfully. He had always hoped that Ethan would find his way out of the darkness that consumed their parents.
A soft knock at her door interrupted her thoughts.
"Clara? It's Ethan," a low voice called out.
She sat up and pulled a light robe around her shoulders. "Come in."
Ethan entered, carrying a wooden box bound with faded brass fittings. He placed it gently on the small table near her bed. "I found this in Julian’s old room in the attic. My father locked it away after Julian left, but I kept the key."
Clara walked over, her heart beating fast. Ethan unlocked the latch and lifted the lid. Inside lay small hand-carved wooden toys, letters tied with twine, and a small leather-bound journal.
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"He used to carve these when we were kids," Ethan said softly, picking up a small wooden bird with intricate feather details. "Our father wanted us studying finance, but Julian spent hours in the woods, shaping wood with his pocket knife."
Clara picked up the journal, flipping through pages filled with neat handwriting and sketches of furniture, nature, and architectural designs. "He loved creating things with his hands," she said quietly. "He always said that if you build something with love, it lasts longer than anything built with money."
