Oblivion

B| Original Epilog

shortly after the epilog

JOSEPHINE

I sat alone at a small table in the corner of the café, my hands wrapped around a steaming cup of hot cocoa. The warmth from the mug was a fragile comfort against the sharp, biting chill of the Winter air that lingered in my bones. The hum of the café swirled around me—clinking cups, the murmur of voices blending with the soft jazz playing in the background—but all of it felt distant, muffled, like I was trapped inside my own head. The therapy session still weighed on me, heavy and draining, but there was a strange lightness too, a fleeting sense of release. For once, the familiar storm inside me had calmed, and I wasn't drowning in the rubble of my past. The steam rising from the cocoa twisted in the air, the scent a bittersweet reminder that I was still here, still trying to find my way. The waiter placed a slice of chocolate cake in front of me, but I barely noticed it. My mind was miles away, caught somewhere between the life I'd left behind and the uncertain future that loomed ahead. Only months ago, I was clinging to survival, unsure who to trust. Now, I had a place with the Marinis—I had a family.

Suddenly, the door chimed, and I felt it before I saw him. A man entered, his dark coat trailing slightly behind him as he scanned the room. His gaze swept over the space, cold and calculating, and when his eyes met mine, everything inside me froze. The air around us shifted, thickened, charged with an unspoken weight. He wasn't here for small talk. His voice was deep, direct, and carried an edge that made the room seem even quieter. "Josephine Parker?"

I swallowed hard, instinctively tightening my grip on the warm cup. "Yes?"

"I am Detective Brown. We need to talk," he said, cutting to the point without hesitation. "It's about your former foster father, Peter Miller."

The mention of his name struck me like a slap in the face. Peter. The man who had shaped so much of who I was—forced me into a person I barely recognized. I hadn't heard his name in ages. I had always called him my foster father, but hearing it now felt like a wound reopening. I slowly set my cup down, my hands trembling as the noise of the café seemed to fade into a hollow silence. The only sound I could hear was the frantic beating of my heart.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, the words rushing out before I could stop them, too defensive, too sharp. Detective Brown didn't flinch. His eyes, cold and calculating, never left me as though he was dissecting every word, every twitch of my expression.

"I think you do," he said quietly, his tone unwavering. "I'm investigating the disappearance of Peter Miller. And I believe Domenico Marini is involved." The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Domenico. The person who had always been there for me, no matter how broken I was. The one who had shown me kindness when I thought there was none left. But now, his name was being dragged into this, and I wouldn't—couldn't—let that happen.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came. My thoughts tumbled in every direction. He had protected me, shielded me from the very darkness I had lived through. He had given me a home when I had none, made me feel safe, something I had never felt before.

"Still, I don't know what you're talking about," I said again, my voice steadier this time, though I could hear the hesitation beneath the words. Detective Brown's gaze hardened. He was assessing me, trying to decide if I was lying or if I truly believed the words I was saying.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice low, each syllable precise. "Peter Miller didn't just vanish. Someone made him disappear."

Maybe he found his way to God, I thought bitterly. The words burned in my throat, but I forced them down. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can help you," I said, pushing the words past my lips as calmly as I could manage, though my chest was tight with anxiety. The detective studied me for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his expression, but he didn't press. Instead, he leaned in, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my skin crawl.