“Anna?” someone murmured. “It’s a coincidence…”
But the woman already knew it wasn’t.
Her hands trembled as she stepped closer to the child, as if drawn by something she couldn’t stop.
“Anna… what?” she whispered.
The child tightened their grip on the flute. Tears filled their eyes, but their voice remained calm in a way that didn’t belong to someone so small.
“Anna Virel.”
The name hit like a gunshot.
The woman staggered back a step, her face collapsing under the weight of memory.
“No…” she breathed.
Because Anna Virel wasn’t just a name.
She was a ghost.
A woman who had disappeared years ago without a trace.
A woman no one was supposed to talk about anymore.
Then—
A voice cut through the air.
Cold. Controlled. Final.
“That’s enough.”
The crowd parted instinctively.
At the far end of the rooftop stood the woman’s husband.
Perfect black suit. Calm expression.
Untouchable.
In his hand—he held a sleek silver case.
The same case that belonged to the flute.
The child saw it—and went still.
Completely still.
The woman’s eyes followed. From the case… to his face.
And everything inside her broke.
“You…” she whispered.
He smiled.
Not warmly.
Not kindly.
Just enough to show that he had never been afraid.
“You should have left it alone,” he said softly.
The woman shook her head, stepping back, her voice cracking.
“The child—Anna—what did you do?”
The man’s smile didn’t change.
Instead, he looked directly at the child.
And for the first time, something like recognition flickered in his eyes.
“You should’ve stayed quiet,” he said.
A pause.
Then, colder—
“Just like your mother.”
The flute slipped from the child’s hands.
And as it hit the stone floor—
the truth finally had a sound.
