Chapter 241: Man in the photograph

Adrian looked at the photograph again.

Then at his father.

Then back at the photograph.

"That’s you?"

His father nodded.

Adrian pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.

For several seconds, he couldn’t find anything to say.

The man in the photograph had Adrian’s face. The same eyes, the same nose, the same expression. Even the way he stood looked familiar.

But his father was sitting right in front of him.

Older, perhaps, but unmistakably the same man Adrian had known for years.

"How?" Adrian finally asked.

His father closed the book on his lap.

"That’s a difficult question."

"Try me."

A faint smile appeared on the older man’s face.

"You’ve always been impatient when it comes to answers."

"And you’ve always been remarkably good at avoiding them."

"That is also true."

Adrian placed the photograph on the table.

"Twenty-three years ago. Before I was born. Margaret said you came looking for me."

His father studied the image.

"She remembered more than I expected."

"Who were you looking for?"

"You."

"How could you look for someone who didn’t exist yet?"

His father looked at him.

"That’s the part you’re struggling with, isn’t it?"

"Among other things."

The older man leaned back.

"I didn’t come looking for the child you became. I came looking for the answer."

Adrian frowned.

"What answer?"

"Yours."

Silence settled between them.

Adrian remembered the old question.

Who wants to exist?

He remembered the answer.

I do.

He had spent a long time understanding what that meant. He had also spent a long time trying not to make it mean more than it did.

"You’re talking about the beginning," Adrian said.

His father nodded.

"Yes."

"Then why did you tell Margaret I would eventually come looking for it?"

"Because I believed you would."

"And why did you tell her I wasn’t ready?"

"Because you weren’t."

Adrian leaned forward.

"Father, I need you to stop speaking as though everything happened according to some plan. I made choices. I forgot things. I became someone else. I chose this life."

"I know."

"Then why does everyone seem to know what I’m going to do before I do it?"

His father didn’t answer immediately.

Then he said, "Because some people remember what you have forgotten. That doesn’t mean they control what you will choose."

Adrian looked away.

It was a distinction he understood.

It was also one he was beginning to hate.

---

"Tell me about the watch," Adrian said.

His father glanced at the photograph.

"It belonged to me."

"I gathered that."

"I gave it to the man in the photograph."

"Why?"

"Because he asked for it."

Adrian stared.

"That’s it?"

"That’s it."

"Who was he?"

His father looked toward the window.

"A possibility."

Adrian waited.

"Not a future version of you. Not an alternate life. Not someone who was supposed to become you. He was a possibility that existed before you chose your identity."

Adrian felt his shoulders tighten.

"Cael?"

"No."

"Echo?"

"No."

"Then who?"

His father shook his head.

"I don’t know."

Adrian frowned.

"You gave him your watch without knowing who he was?"

"I knew what he wanted."

"What?"

"To be remembered."

Adrian looked down at the photograph.

The man had stood beside Margaret, wearing his father’s watch and looking directly at the camera.

"Why did he look like me?"

"Because he had chosen your face."

"Why?"

"I don’t know."

Adrian let out a slow breath.

"You’re not being very helpful."

"I know."

His father stood and walked toward the window.

"I met him long before Margaret took that photograph. He appeared after you had made your first choice. He didn’t speak much. He didn’t ask questions. He only watched."

"Watched what?"

"You."

Adrian went still.

"Where?"

"Not here. Not in the world you know."

His father turned.

"He had been waiting for you to remember him. I didn’t understand why. I thought he wanted to be part of your beginning."

"And you gave him your watch?"

"I gave him something that belonged to me. He said it would help him find his way back."

"Back where?"

"To you."

Adrian looked at the photograph again.

"Did he ever return?"

His father nodded.

"Once."

"When?"

"After you chose to forget."

The room seemed to grow smaller.

Adrian remembered Margaret’s letter.

That’s what he chose last time.

He looked up.

"What did he say?"

His father returned to his chair.

"He said you had finally become someone who could be left alone."

Adrian said nothing.

"He asked me not to interfere with your life. I agreed."

"Why?"

"Because you had chosen it."

Adrian rubbed his face.

"Then why is he appearing in photographs? Why is Margaret involved? Why is Jonas finding notebooks in places that shouldn’t exist?"

His father didn’t have an immediate answer.

That, more than anything, made Adrian uneasy.

---

Lena found them together a little later.

She had returned from the kitchen with a cup of tea and stopped when she noticed their expressions.

"Did something happen?"

Adrian looked at her.

"My father was the man in the photograph."

Lena glanced at the older man.

He nodded.

She slowly placed the cup on the table.

"All right."

Adrian stared at her.

"That’s your reaction?"

"What reaction did you want?"

"I don’t know. Something."

Lena pulled out a chair.

"Would you like me to scream?"

His father chuckled.

Adrian shook his head.

"Forget it."

Lena sat beside him.

"What did you find out?"

"Not enough."

"That’s becoming a pattern."

His father smiled faintly.

Lena looked at the photograph.

"Why was he wearing your watch?"

"Apparently, someone asked for it."

She glanced at Adrian.

"Someone who looked like you?"

"Yes."

"That’s strange."

"Very."

She picked up the letter from Margaret and read it carefully.

When she finished, she placed it back on the table.

"Did Margaret know who he was?"

"No," Adrian answered. "Not really."

"Did she know he was connected to your past?"

"She knew something."

Lena looked at his father.

"Did you tell her anything?"

"No."

"Then why did she keep writing about him?"

His father considered the question.

"Perhaps because she was afraid that someone else would forget."

Adrian looked at him.

"Forget what?"

"That he existed."

---

Later that evening, Adrian went for a walk.

He didn’t go far.

Just around the block, past the grocery store and the small park near their apartment. The air was cool, and the pavement still held traces of the afternoon rain.

He sat on a bench.

For a while, he watched a couple trying to teach their young son how to ride a bicycle.

The boy kept losing his balance.

His father ran beside him, holding the back of the seat.

His mother stood a few steps away, telling him he was doing well.

Eventually, the boy managed to pedal several metres before falling.

He wasn’t hurt.

He was furious.

The parents laughed.

The boy complained.

Then they tried again.

Adrian watched until they disappeared around the corner.

He wondered what it meant to be remembered by someone who had never really known him.

He wondered whether the man in the photograph had been lonely.

Whether the face he had chosen had meant something to him.

And whether being remembered was enough.

His phone vibrated.

A message from Jonas.

Jonas: Did you meet Elise?

Adrian: Yes.

Jonas: Did she give you the photograph?

Adrian: She did.

A moment passed.

Jonas: Did you find out who the man was?

Adrian looked at the street.

Adrian: My father.

Jonas didn’t respond immediately.

Then:

Jonas: That’s not what I expected.

Adrian: Neither did I.

Another message arrived.

Jonas: There’s something else you should know.

Adrian sighed.

Adrian: Of course there is.

Jonas: I found the shop again.

Adrian sat up.

Adrian: The one that appeared after closing?

Jonas: Yes.

Adrian: What happened?

Jonas: There was someone inside.

Adrian waited.

Jonas: He was wearing a watch.

Adrian stared at the screen.

Adrian: Was it silver? Dark leather strap?

The reply came almost immediately.

Jonas: Yes.

Adrian stood.

Adrian: What did he look like?

There was a long pause.

Then Jonas sent a photograph.

It showed the interior of a small shop.

The shelves were empty.

The counter was covered in dust.

And standing behind it was a man wearing a dark coat.

Adrian enlarged the image.

The face was blurred.

But the watch was clear.

Adrian: Did you speak to him?

Jonas: No. He looked at me and said something.

Adrian: What?

Jonas’s reply took nearly a minute.

Jonas: He said, "Tell Adrian I have his answer."

Adrian stared at the message.

Then another arrived.

Jonas: He also said I should stop looking for my brother.

Adrian’s expression changed.

Adrian: Why?

Jonas: He said my brother had already found what he was looking for.

Adrian read the message twice.

He called Jonas.

The call connected.

"Where are you?"

"At home."

"Did you see him clearly?"

"No. Not really."

"What did he mean about your brother?"

"I don’t know."

"Have you spoken to your brother?"

"Yes. He’s fine. He’s still planning to move."

"Then why would he say that?"

Jonas was quiet.

"I think he knows something."

"About your brother?"

"Maybe."

Adrian looked toward the apartment buildings.

"Jonas, don’t go back to that shop alone."

"I wasn’t planning to."

"And don’t follow anyone."

"I know."

Adrian hesitated.

"Send me the location."

Jonas did.

Adrian saved it.

Then he ended the call.

---

When he returned home, Lena was waiting in the living room.

"Everything okay?"

Adrian placed his phone on the table.

"Jonas saw the man."

"The one in the photograph?"

"Probably."

He showed her the image.

Lena studied it.

"What does he want?"

"He says he has my answer."

"To what question?"

"I don’t know."

She handed the phone back.

"Are you going to meet him?"

Adrian looked at the location Jonas had sent.

"Eventually."

"Not tonight?"

"No."

"Good."

He sat beside her.

For a while, they watched television without paying much attention to it.

Then Lena rested her head against his shoulder.

"You know something?"

"What?"

"Your life is getting unnecessarily complicated."

Adrian laughed.

"That’s one way to put it."

"I miss the days when our biggest problem was the cupboard."

"The cupboard was dangerous."

"It was badly installed."

"It attacked me."

She smiled.

He leaned back.

The photograph remained on the table.

A man with his face.

His father’s watch.

A stranger who remembered a beginning Adrian had chosen to forget.

And somewhere, inside a shop that shouldn’t exist, that stranger was waiting.

Adrian looked at Lena.

"Do you think I should hear him out?"

She considered it.

"Yes."

"Even if he wants me to remember?"

"Listening isn’t the same as agreeing."

Adrian nodded.

She took his hand.

"And remembering something doesn’t mean you have to become it again."

He looked at her for a long moment.

Then he smiled.

"You’re getting good at this."

"At what?"

"Talking me out of doing stupid things."

Lena laughed.

"Someone has to."

---

That night, Adrian placed the photograph in a drawer.

He didn’t hide it.

He simply decided he didn’t need to look at it anymore.

Before going to bed, he checked his phone one last time.

There was a new message from an unknown number.

Your father remembers the watch.

Another message followed.

But he doesn’t remember who gave it to him.

Adrian stared at the screen.

Then the final message arrived.

Ask him what happened to the first person who wore it.

He looked toward the guest room.

His father was asleep.

Adrian locked his phone.

He had another question now.

But he would ask it in the morning.

For tonight, he wanted to sleep beside Lena without thinking about photographs, forgotten beginnings, or people who wore familiar faces.

He switched off the light.

And let the question wait.