When Isabella's family arrived,
Someone directed them to the Infirmary.
They counted their footsteps while chatting happily.
Isabella spotted them from a distance,
"They're here --- "Isabella paused briefly before walking up to them
Before greetings and hugs could be thrown around,
Andrea recognized him instantly.
Not because Xavier looked the same.
He didn't.
The man standing near the infirmary entrance was broader now, harder around the edges, his posture carved by years of command and pain. His hair was cropped short, his face lined with things Andrea was too young to name but old enough to understand.
No.
Andrea recognized him because of the way he stood.
Still.
Alert.
As if he was always waiting for something to go wrong.
As if the world had taught him not to relax.
Andrea stopped walking.
Lucia was mid-sentence, complaining softly about the barracks food. Marcello was admiring the structure of the compound with polite interest. Isabella was a step ahead of them, already tense, already bracing herself.
Andrea didn't hear any of it.
His eyes were locked on the man by the wall.
His heart began to pound.
"No way…" Andrea whispered.
Isabella turned. "What?"
He swallowed. Hard.
"That's him."
Her breath caught.
"Don't," she said quietly. Too quickly.
Andrea ignored her.
He stepped forward.
---
Xavier noticed the family before Isabella spoke to him.
The older man with tired eyes.
The woman whose smile looked earned, not given.
And the boy—
No.
Not a boy.
The young man staring at him like he'd seen a ghost.
Xavier straightened instinctively.
The young man walked right up to him.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if approaching something fragile.
"You're Xavier," Andrea said.
It wasn't a question.
The air went still.
Isabella froze.
Xavier frowned. "Do I know you?"
Andrea laughed once—short, disbelieving. "You really don't remember."
Xavier's chest tightened. "Remember what?"
Andrea's eyes burned. "You used to walk me home. You helped me with homework. You paid my school fees when I didn't even know where the money came from."
Lucia gasped softly behind them.
Marcello went pale.
Isabella closed her eyes.
Xavier's head began to ache.
Images flashed—disjointed, painful.
A pastry shop.
Flour on hands.
A boy with sharp eyes and stubborn pride.
A laugh.
A promise.
He staggered back half a step.
"I—" He pressed his fingers to his temple. "I don't—"
Andrea stepped closer, voice shaking now. "You told me education was the only thing no one could steal from me."
Silence.
Thick.
Crushing.
Xavier looked at Isabella.
Really looked at her.
Not as a nurse.
Not as an assignment.
But as something that belonged to a part of him he had buried alive.
"Isabella," he whispered.
Her name came out broken.
She opened her eyes.
And nodded.
"Yes," she said. "It's me."
Lucia covered her mouth.
Marcello lowered himself onto a bench, breathing shallowly.
Xavier's world tilted.
"You're—" He swallowed. "You were—"
"Everything," Andrea said fiercely. "And then you disappeared."
Xavier's knees nearly buckled.
"I didn't leave you," he said hoarsely. "I swear I didn't."
Isabella stepped forward at last.
"I know," she said.
That was what broke him.
He laughed—a sound halfway to a sob—and dragged a hand down his face.
"They made me forget," he whispered. "God, they really did."
Andrea nodded. "We know who."
Xavier's jaw tightened.
Otilla.
The name burned without being spoken.
Isabella touched Xavier's arm—just briefly, just enough.
"We'll talk later," she said softly. "Not here."
He nodded.
Barely holding himself together.
Andrea stepped back, eyes shining with something fierce and protective.
"You saved us," he said. "Now it's our turn not to lose you."
Xavier looked at him, at the man Andrea had become.
And for the first time in years—
He remembered why he had fought so hard to survive.
Behind the barracks walls, something irreversible had happened.
The past had been recognized.
And once recognized—
It could no longer be erased.