Chapter 5 Shadows on the Porch

The house had a stillness that enveloped him, a heavy silence that could be felt in every corner. Elías's every step resonated like a warning, as if the mansion itself were watching him.

Elías had been in that place for three days now, three days in which the walls had been filled with other people's memories, with glances he couldn't decipher, and with a discomfort that wouldn't settle. The Altamirano house wasn't just large, it was imposing. And there was something about its size, its coldness, that reminded him of the walls of his childhood shed, the ones that had surrounded him until despair forced him to flee. Although in this house, everything seemed softer, more concealed, less explicit. Here, the suffering wasn't visible; it was insinuated.

That morning, Nina had sent him to the back porch to clean. It was a simple order, but like everything in that house, there was something more hidden behind it. "The gallery in the back," Nina said in her raspy voice, as if that part of the house were buried in more than just dust. She handed him a rag and looked at him as if she knew Elías would never question anything, as if he didn't need to. As if he'd already given her enough power over him without words.

Elías had tried to remain unnoticed since his arrival. He didn't need to attract attention. He preferred solitude. Yet everything in that house invited him to look beyond the visible, to discover the secrets hidden between every fold of the heavy curtains and every shadow on the walls. There was something about the mansion that didn't fit, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it unsettled him. Perhaps it was the fact that everyone seemed to be playing a game of chess, moving with precision and coldness, and Elías was as alone as a pawn.

When he reached the gallery, the first thing he noticed was the thick, stagnant air. The room was filled with memories no one wanted to remember. The furniture, covered in yellow sheets, was piled on top of each other, as if it were an abandoned antique shop. Dust covered everything, and the light coming in through the high windows only served to highlight the floating specks in the air, making everything feel even more ancient. The silence was absolute, broken only by the creaking of the floor beneath his feet. Elías took a deep breath and went inside.

He picked up the broom and began to sweep, but his gaze kept wandering around the room. The portraits on the walls, of people he didn't know, seemed unsettling to him. Some were obscured by the lack of light, others barely made out any details. In the dimness, the faces in the portraits became distorted shadows, as if mocking him.

That's when he saw it. A small wooden jewelry box, hidden among old books. The wood was worn, but still held a faint glow. Elias approached, not knowing why. Something inside him told him he should look at it, should touch it. He lifted it cautiously, as if it were a sacred object, and when he opened it, he found a worn medal, a piece that seemed to have been torn from something larger. On it, engraved the letters "R.A.". The air seemed to thicken around him, and a strange sense of recognition washed over him. His hands shook as he held the medal. A flash of his past passed through him: a child running, the smell of rancid oil, screams, and then, silence. Elias squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the object away. The image disappeared as quickly as it had come, but the feeling remained. He felt as if someone was watching him, as if that medal had been placed there for him to find, as if someone in that house wanted him to know something. Something he didn't yet understand. Quickly, he placed the medal back in the jewelry box and closed it tightly. He left the object in the same place he had found it and left the gallery, not daring to look back.

At that same instant, Nina appeared in the doorway. She had been watching her, silently. Elías looked at her, and for a moment, they both stood there, face to face. There were no words for a long second. Only Nina's steady gaze, which continued to analyze his every move.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharp as a knife's edge.

Elías, still feeling uneasy about the discovery, answered calmly, his surprise hidden.

"I'm cleaning, like he told me."

Nina said nothing more. She approached the window and opened the curtain with an impersonal gesture, as if she too wanted to let some air into the room and dissipate any tension. When she did, the light that entered revealed more of the room's details, highlighting the aged books and dusty chairs. Elias felt that his presence there was almost a violation, as if everything in the house was trying to remain hidden from the light.

Nina watched him for a few more seconds and, without changing looking at her expression, he turned and walked toward the door.

"The gallery isn't for anyone, Elías," he said before leaving, with one last glance in her direction. "Not everything old needs to be revived."

Elías stood there, speechless. The phrase echoed in his mind as the door closed behind Nina, leaving the young man once again in that mansion riddled with secrets.

That evening, after a silent dinner with the family, Elías went out to the backyard. He needed some air. He didn't understand why he felt so overwhelmed by things that seemed so simple. Like that jewelry box. Or like Victoria's furtive glances, which always avoided him, but which he could feel like a constant pressure on his chest.

He walked through the shadows of the garden, where the trees stood like spectral figures, and then stopped by one of the walls. The house loomed beside him, enormous, almost threatening. Without warning, he saw Victoria in the distance, walking alone across the lawn. Her figure moved gracefully, but there was something about her posture that denoted discomfort, something Elias couldn't quite place.

For a moment, he stood watching her from the shadows, unseen. Victoria didn't seem aware of his presence. Her face was withdrawn, thoughtful. The moonlight partially bathed her, creating a soft halo around her. He watched her every movement, as if he were looking at an unreachable painting. The few steps she took seemed more a reflection of her discomfort than a peaceful nighttime stroll.

The night dragged on as Elias stood there, motionless, waiting for her to pass, waiting for, at some point, the distance between them to dissolve. But it didn't. Victoria continued on her way, without him daring to take a single step toward her.

The house, his house, watched him from the shadows, just as Victoria did. And in some corner, Elias felt that, sooner or later, that stillness would devour him.