Chapter 7:
The Road to the City
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Part 3:
The Key to the Box
The cold, metallic air of the vault clung to Ethan as he stared down at the contents of the safety deposit box. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, and his hands shook slightly as they hovered over the letters and the small, brass key. It was the kind of key that could belong to anything—a door, a chest, or some other long-forgotten lock. But its presence here, nestled among the delicate letters and aged photographs, carried weight. It was more than just a key. It was a piece of the puzzle his mother had left behind.
Ethan exhaled slowly, the sound of his breath echoing in the silent room. The soft hum of the bank’s machinery was barely audible through the thick walls, and for a moment, it felt like time had paused around him. His mind buzzed with questions: What did the key unlock? Why had his mother hidden it here, in a box that she must have known he’d eventually find? Was it meant for him? Or had it been placed here for someone else, someone who had never come?
The key was small and unassuming, its brass surface slightly tarnished with age. He lifted it gently, feeling its weight in his hand. It seemed ordinary, yet the knowledge that his mother had hidden it away made it feel anything but. A nervous anticipation coiled in his chest. He had hoped the box would provide answers, but now, staring at the objects before him, he felt more uncertain than ever.
As his fingers brushed over the letters, the fragile paper crinkled beneath his touch. He carefully lifted the topmost one, the envelope’s edges worn and frayed. His mother’s handwriting—sharp, familiar, and achingly precise—scrawled across the surface in ink that had begun to fade with time. His heart tightened as he ran his thumb over the letters of his name, written so long ago. He hadn’t seen her handwriting in years, and the sight of it brought a rush of memories—of her sitting at the kitchen table, pen in hand, scribbling notes, lists, and thoughts as if trying to keep her world in order.
He felt a pang of longing, sharper than he’d expected. It wasn’t just grief, but regret. Regret for the questions he had never asked, for the distance he had let grow between them, for the way he had closed himself off after her death. And now, here he was, holding the remnants of her life in his hands, the pieces she had never shared with him while she was alive.
He opened the first envelope slowly, careful not to tear the fragile paper. Inside was a letter, written in his mother’s familiar hand. But as he began to read, the words were cryptic, as though they were meant to conceal more than they revealed. She mentioned names he didn’t recognize—people he had never heard her speak of—and places he’d never known she had visited. There were vague references to “the work,” but no specifics. It was as though she had been part of something larger, something secret, but had never wanted him to know.
Ethan frowned, his eyes scanning the page for something more concrete, something that could explain the strange turns her life had taken in those final years. But there was nothing. Just fragments, pieces of a life that no longer made sense to him.
He set the letter down and picked up the photographs. They were old, yellowed with time, and their edges were curling slightly. His mother appeared in many of them, always surrounded by people he didn’t recognize. In one, she stood next to a man with dark hair and a stern expression, their backs to a sprawling building that looked like some kind of laboratory. There was something off about the photos, something that made him uneasy. His mother looked different in these pictures—more guarded, more serious. As if the woman he had known was only a part of who she had been.
Ethan’s throat tightened. It was like looking at a stranger.
The absence of Sarah in this moment was palpable, a sharp, cold void in the room with him. There had been a time when he would have called her, when the first thing he’d want to do after such a discovery would be to share it with her, to talk through what it might mean. She would have calmed him, reassured him, maybe even helped him make sense of the pieces in front of him. But now, with her betrayal still fresh in his mind, that comfort was gone. He was alone.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus on the present. Sarah had made her choice, and he couldn’t afford to waste time thinking about her now. His mother had left this box for a reason, and whatever secrets it held, they were his to uncover. He couldn’t let anyone else—Sarah or otherwise—distract him from that.
The brass key felt heavier in his pocket now, a tangible reminder of the mystery that remained unsolved. He glanced back at the letters, wondering if they held more clues, if somewhere in the cryptic words his mother had left behind, there was an answer. But even as he considered it, dread settled in the pit of his stomach.
What if the key didn’t unlock anything he wanted to find? What if the secrets his mother had hidden away were too dangerous, too dark? He had already begun to suspect that her life had been far more complicated than he’d ever realized, but the more he uncovered, the more he feared what lay ahead.
His pulse quickened, and he shoved the letters back into the box, unable to shake the sense that he was venturing into dangerous territory. He couldn’t help but wonder if his mother had wanted him to find these things at all. Or if, by opening this box, he had set something in motion that couldn’t be undone.
Ethan stood there for a moment, frozen in the sterile, empty room. The key weighed heavily in his hand, as if it held the power to unlock not just a door, but the past itself—his mother’s secrets, her choices, her reasons for hiding away the life he had never known. He felt a surge of determination, mingled with fear. Whatever this key unlocked, it was connected to her. And now, he had no choice but to follow where it led.
The absence of Sarah gnawed at him again, but this time, he pushed it aside. He had to face this alone, as he had always feared he might. The answers were there, waiting for him. But as the cold vault door loomed behind him, sealing him in with the remnants of his mother’s hidden life, Ethan wondered if he was truly prepared for what came next.

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Is That Mom
Mystery / ThrillerEthan has always been haunted by the mysterious disappearance of his mother, a shadow over his life that no one, not even his grandmother, is willing to fully explain. Now, armed with his mother's forgotten journal and a determination to uncover the...