Chapter 218: …After A Heavy Rainfall

LOUISE’S POV

Mateo is standing in the middle of the valley as though he has been waiting for her all along. He looks exactly as she remembers him.

His brown hair is neatly combed, his simple clothes are clean, and his old leather shoes rest against the ground she cannot see.

In one hand, he holds his thick, black Bible, the same one whose cracked spine she used to run her fingers over when she sat beside him on the worn sofa.

His face has not changed. His eyes are still soft, and when he smiles, the corners crinkle in that familiar way that used to make her feel safe before she even understood what safety meant.

Tears are running down his cheeks. He is crying. Mateo is crying while looking at her.

For one impossible moment, Louise forgets the darkness. She forgets that she cannot breathe. She forgets the fear that has been tearing through her little body. All she can see is him. All she can think is that he is here. He is really here.

Her father is here.

Her mouth trembles as she tries to say his name, but it comes out as a broken, choking sound.

Mateo’s smile trembles.

"My little flower."

Louise starts crying harder.

The darkness keeps rising, but she barely notices it now. Tears spill from her eyes, only they are not clear. They are thick and black, running down her cheeks in slow streams, carrying the shadows with them.

She does not understand what is happening to her, and she does not care. All she wants is to reach him.

"Mateo."

She tries again. This time, she manages only a whisper.

He takes a step toward her.

"My little flower." He takes another step. "My special Louise."

Louise stretches both hands toward him. She cannot remember the last time she wanted something so desperately. Not money. Not power. Not the approval she spent years chasing from a mother who never knew how to love her.

She wants him.

She wants the man who used to tuck strawberry candies into her coat pockets, the man who listened to her talk about stray cats as if the world depended on every word she said, the man who called her beautiful even when her hair was tangled and her dress was old.

She wants the man who never once made her feel that she was a burden.

"My kind girl."

Mateo reaches her.

His hands close around her face, warm palms resting against her wet cheeks. His thumbs move gently beneath her eyes, trying to wipe away the black tears.

"Oh, my beautiful girl." His voice shakes. "What has happened to you?"

Louise makes a sound that might be a laugh or another sob. She does not know. She only knows that his hands are holding her face, and for the first time in what feels like forever, she is being touched without someone wanting something from her.

There is no demand, no judgment, and no hidden bargain. He is simply holding her.

Mateo bends and wraps his arms around her. Louise collapses against him.

Her little hands clutch the back of his coat, grabbing fistfuls of the familiar fabric. She buries her face against his chest and sobs until her entire body shakes. He smells the same, a little like soap, a little like old books, and a little like the kitchen where he used to make breakfast for her.

She remembers the warmth of his flat, the sound of his voice reading scripture, and the way he used to carry her when she fell asleep on the sofa.

She remembers being six years old and believing that if she held his hand tightly enough, he would never leave her. She remembers praying for him to become her father.

She remembers asking God to let Mateo take her away from Alice.

And she remembers the day Alice dragged her through the iron gates of the Dubois estate, taking her away from the only man who had ever made her feel loved.

She had never seen him awake again. Not until now.

"I missed you." The words escape her in a small, broken whisper.

Mateo holds her tighter. "I missed you too, my little flower."

Louise shakes her head against him, crying harder. "No. No, you don’t understand."

She wants to tell him about the eleven years. She wants to tell him about the hospital room, the machines, the narrow bed, and the terrible silence that greeted her every time she visited.

She wants to tell him that she kept coming back because she could not accept that the world had taken him away from her. She has been angry with him sometimes, even though she knew it was not his fault.

She had wanted him to wake up. She had wanted him to look at her and tell her that everything would be all right. She had wanted him to call her his little flower one more time.

And now he is doing it.

He is holding her. He is calling her by the name she has carried inside herself for years, even after she stopped believing that she deserved it.

Louise presses herself closer. "Don’t leave me." The words come out before she can stop them.

"Please, Mateo. Please don’t leave me again."

His arms tighten around her. "My beautiful girl."

"Don’t leave."

She is crying so hard that she can barely speak. "Please. I can’t— I can’t do this again."

Mateo presses his cheek against the top of her head. "I am here."

"No, you have to go." Louise suddenly pulls away.

The realization strikes her so hard that her stomach twists. He is here, but he should not be here. She looks around them at the blackness that still rises to her waist and swirls around their feet.

It has not disappeared. It has not become less frightening because Mateo has arrived. If anything, it seems worse now, because he is standing in it with her.

She looks at his clean clothes, his familiar shoes, and the Bible in his hand. He does not belong here. He has never belonged anywhere like this.

Mateo is kind. He is good. He is the man who gave his last penny to a woman who did not deserve his love because he believed she would build a family with him.

He is the man who spent his life believing that kindness mattered. And she—

Louise looks down at the blackness coating her little hands.

She knows what she has become. She knows what she has done. The faces waiting inside the shadows are beginning to emerge, one after another.

And suddenly, the joy of seeing Mateo is overtaken by a fresh, terrible fear.

"No." She grabs his wrists. "No, no, no. You can’t be here."