It had been three weeks since the event.
Three weeks since Maria stood, face to face, with the very ghost from her past who once buried her beneath lies and left her for dead.
She had survived that night with her walls unbroken–but barely.
Then the request came.
A formal email. Polished. Professional. Sent from Liz's assistant: Dr. Runbert requests a private meeting to reconnect and catch up.
Maria had stared at the message for a long time before finally showing it to Sara.
"You're not going, right?" Sara had asked with steel in her voice.
Maria had only nodded once, quiet. Her silence was louder than a scream.
Two weeks of overthinking.
Of nightmares and overanalyzing.
Of balancing the delicate image she'd built and the memories she couldn't burn.
Finally, she responded.
She would meet her.
On her terms.
In her office.
With her mind armored and her heart locked.
3:30 PM.
The office was still, it's gold-framed sketches and lush fabrics casting a soft warmth. Sara stood near the entrance, ready to intercept if needed.
Liz arrived on time.
Her hair was longer now, and her perfume floated in before her. Soft, deliberate steps on marble floors. A calm smile, a well-practiced tilt of the head.
"Maria," she said.
"Liz." Maria's voice was polite, cold.
They sat.
"It's been a while, Maria." Liz started.
Maria replied "Has it? Feels like just yesterday."
Maria said little, arms crossed, her gaze unreadable.
Liz leaned in with a sad smile. "You haven't changed."
Maria replied coolly, "You have. You're just more strategic now."
"You've done well for yourself, I always knew you would."
"Did you?"
"I am here for a reason"
"I assumed"
"I want back in Maria, I want us to try again."
"Try what exactly?"
"You know what."
"No."
"You don't mean that"
"I do."
"We can fix this. I know you still–"
"No you don't know Liz. You never did. Do you think this is some love story with a happy ending? That you can just walk in here, say a few words, and I'll forget everything you did to me?"
"Maria I–"
"Tell me again, what was it? That I was a slut? That I deserve to die alone? That I forced myself on you?"
"That was a long time ago."
"Yes. But you see Liz, I never forget."
The conservation was winding down.
Liz said the expected:
The apologies.
The fake remorse.
The carefully-worded regrets.
Liz stood to leave, gently placing her designer bag over her shoulder.
"I'm glad we–"
Thud. Then footsteps. Small, fast ones.
A giggle echoed from the hallway as a little girl burst into the office, curly hair bouncing, glitter shoes lighting up with every step.
"Momma! Look at what Aunty Sara–!"
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw the unfamiliar woman. Liz's breath caught.
The child looked just like her.
The same eyes.
The same hair color.
The same skin tone.
Her lips parted. "Who..."
"Baby," she said, stepping in front of the girl protectively, "go back to the playroom, alright? I'll join you in a few."
Lila blinked at Liz, then nodded and dashed off with a soft, "Okay, momma."
Silence.
Dead. Sharp. Thick.
Liz stood frozen, her expression shattered into confusion and dawning horror.
"That child..." she whispered. "That's not possible. The IVF..."
Maria remained by the door, blocking her path. Her eyes hard now.
"It worked," she said softly. "I didn't tell anyone."
Liz staggered back a little. "You were pregnant? All that time? And no one... Not even–?"
"You made sure no one cared what I had to say," Maria interrupted, her voice tight.
"I was alone. Disowned. Raped. Starving. I gave birth in a country where no one even knew my name."
Liz blinked rapidly. "But... I thought... I heard you were dead."
"You wanted me to be."
The room fell quiet again, tension crackling like static.
Liz tried to speak, but the words died in her throat.
Maria stepped closer. "Whatever plan you had, burn it. You don't get to touch her life. Not again."
Her voice was cold steel. "This time, I'm not the one who will break."