The aroma of the freshly cooked meal filled the underground room, spreading through the cold, damp space and briefly making it feel almost like an ordinary dining room rather than a place where Liliana was being held prisoner. Harry took the first bite cautiously, then another. His eyes slowly widened, and a genuine expression of delight appeared across his face as he looked at Liliana.
"It’s..."
He smiled.
"It’s delicious."
Liliana forced herself to smile back.
"I’m glad."
Inside, she felt nothing but exhaustion. Her body ached from remaining in the same position for so long, and her mind had been working constantly, searching for a way out. She had barely tasted the food herself because she had been too focused on the small knife now hidden safely inside the pocket sewn beneath the folds of her skirt. She could still feel its weight against her leg. It was small and light, hardly enough to make her feel powerful, yet somehow, it felt like hope.
She prayed Harry hadn’t noticed.
Fortunately, he seemed completely absorbed in the meal.
"This tastes just like..."
He paused, his expression becoming strangely distant.
"...home."
Liliana lowered her eyes.
"I’m happy you like it."
Harry continued eating happily, complimenting nearly every bite as though he had forgotten, even for a moment, that she was his prisoner.
"You remembered exactly how to season it."
"The vegetables are perfect."
"I haven’t had a meal like this in years."
Liliana quietly nodded.
She had cooked thousands of meals before. For Grandma Lucia. For her cousins. For Chris. Cooking had always been one of the ways she expressed love, something she had done naturally without expecting anything in return. She remembered the warmth of her family’s kitchen, the sound of conversations around the table, and the way Chris would sometimes sneak a taste before she had finished preparing everything.
Today...
It had become a way to survive.
Every movement had a purpose. Every smile was an act. Every word had to be carefully chosen.
Harry finished the last spoonful and leaned back in his chair with genuine satisfaction. For several seconds, he simply stared at the empty plate before looking at her.
"Thank you."
Liliana smiled politely.
"You’re welcome."
He looked at her for several quiet seconds.
Then asked,
"What do you want?"
She blinked.
"...What?"
"A reward."
His smile returned.
"You cooked for me."
"I want to give you something."
Liliana immediately shook her head.
"I don’t need anything."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
She spoke softly.
"I’m just happy you enjoyed the meal."
Harry stared at her, his expression softening as though her answer confirmed something he had already convinced himself was true.
"I knew you were kind."
"You’ve always been kind."
Liliana didn’t answer.
Every word she spoke now had to be carefully measured. Too cold, and he might become suspicious. Too warm, and she felt like she was betraying herself. She hated having to pretend that his presence didn’t frighten her, hated having to maintain the illusion that she was comfortable when every part of her wanted to escape.
So she settled for silence.
Harry slowly stood.
"I still want to thank you."
Before Liliana could react, he stepped closer.
Her entire body stiffened.
Her heartbeat became deafening.
Stay calm.
Don’t panic.
Don’t let him notice.
Harry crouched beside her. His hand reached for hers.
Liliana instinctively wanted to pull away.
She couldn’t.
Her feet were still bound, and any sudden movement might make him suspicious. She forced herself not to flinch as Harry gently took her hand between both of his.
"I’ve imagined this..."
he whispered.
"...for so many years."
Before she could speak, he lowered his head.
His lips briefly touched the back of her hand.
It lasted only a moment.
Yet to Liliana, it felt unbearable.
Every instinct inside her screamed to pull away, to wipe her hand, to run until she couldn’t breathe. Instead, she remained perfectly still. Her face didn’t change. She even managed a faint, strained smile.
"Thank you..."
she whispered.
Harry looked genuinely happy.
"I knew..."
"I knew you’d understand me someday."
Liliana simply nodded.
She could not trust her voice.
Harry slowly released her hand.
"I’ll clean up."
He gathered the empty dishes, still smiling to himself as though the moment had meant something entirely different to him. Liliana watched him carefully, forcing herself to remain calm while silently praying that he would leave.
Before leaving, he looked back once more.
"Good night, Lily."
The heavy door closed behind him.
Click.
The lock turned.
Silence returned.
Liliana remained frozen for several seconds. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe deeply, and didn’t allow herself to relax. She listened carefully.
His footsteps faded.
The staircase creaked.
Then...
Nothing.
Only then did she look down at her hand. The same hand Harry had kissed.
Her breathing became uneven. She rubbed the back of it against her sleeve again...
And again...
As though trying to erase the memory. The tears she had been holding back finally escaped.
She covered her mouth with both hands to keep herself from making a sound, pressing her palms tightly against her lips as her shoulders trembled. She cried quietly in the darkness, terrified that even the slightest sound might reach Harry upstairs.
Not because of pain. Not because of the ropes. But because everything that had happened felt so violating.
She had smiled. She had thanked him. She had pretended. Only to survive.
"I hate this..."
she whispered through her tears.
"I hate this..."
She curled into herself as much as the ropes around her ankles allowed. For a brief moment, the hopelessness threatened to swallow her completely. The darkness seemed endless, and the locked door looked like an impossible barrier between her and freedom.
But then...
Another memory surfaced.
Chris.
His smile.
The promise they had made to choose each other every single day.
Everyone back home. Grandma Lucia, Emily, Mary, Nathan, Rose, Nicolo and Nicole. Her family.
They were searching. She knew they would never stop. The thought steadied her breathing. She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand and forced herself to sit straighter.
"No..."
she whispered to herself.
"I’m not giving up."
Her eyes moved toward the door.
"I can’t."
She reached carefully into the hidden pocket of her skirt. Her fingers touched the small knife. Still there. Still hidden.
She closed her hand around it for only a second before carefully hiding it again.
A tiny advantage. A tiny chance. But it was enough. She had learned something tonight.
Harry trusted her.
He believed her kindness meant acceptance. He believed her smiles were genuine. He believed she was slowly beginning to understand him.
That misunderstanding could become her greatest weapon.
Liliana looked toward the locked door, her expression slowly changing from despair to determination.
"Chris..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"I know you’re looking for me."
A small smile appeared through her tears.
"So I’ll keep waiting."
"I’ll stay alive."
"I’ll be ready."
Above the underground room, the old house settled with a faint creak as the night deepened. Harry moved through the rooms above, unaware that the woman he believed was becoming resigned to her fate had quietly begun preparing for her escape.
And somewhere beyond those walls, only a few hundred meters away, the people who loved her were closer than either she or Harry Finn realized.
The search had brought them dangerously near.
They were following every clue, examining every possibility, refusing to believe that Liliana was gone forever. Chris had promised himself that he would find her, no matter how long it took or how far he had to go.
Liliana didn’t know how close they were.
But somehow, deep inside her heart, she believed they were coming.
The distance between them had never been smaller.
Now, all they needed was the right moment.
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