CHAPTER 248: Catharsis - 3

CHAPTER 248: Catharsis - 3

The morning in the Enid Corp office passed with an almost offensive normalcy.

Light entered through the large windows, illuminating the office with a clean, orderly clarity. The sound of pages being signed marked the rhythm of time.

Enid did not look up.

She signed.

She turned the page.

She signed again.

As if nothing in the world could alter that routine.

In the adjoining bathroom, the water ran without rest.

Fenix leaned over the sink, supporting himself with both hands, breathing with difficulty.

He brought water to his face.

Once.

Again.

Once more.

As if he could erase something.

As if the memory could dilute and disappear down the drain.

But it did not.

It never did.

He closed the tap abruptly.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

His eyes were not the same.

Not after that night.

He left the bathroom.

The contrast was immediate.

Calm.

Silence.

Order.

Enid was still there, signing documents as if the world had not changed at all.

Fenix advanced a few steps.

He stopped in front of the desk.

—I need to talk to you.

Enid did not respond immediately.

She finished signing the document.

She turned the page.

She continued.

—Did you do it? —she asked finally, without raising her gaze.

Fenix clenched his jaw.

—Yes.

A pause.

—But something else happened.

That did make Enid stop.

Not out of emotional interest.

Out of efficiency.

—Explain.

Fenix swallowed.

The words weighed.

—There was someone else.

Silence.

Enid raised her gaze for the first time.

—Someone relevant?

Fenix shook his head slowly.

—His daughter.

The word hung suspended.

Fragile.

Real.

Fenix lowered his gaze.

—She entered the room… and I…

He did not finish the sentence.

There was no need.

The silence lengthened.

Fenix expected something.

Anything.

Reaction.

Annoyance.

Rage.

Something human.

But it did not come.

Enid looked at the papers again.

—The target was eliminated.

She signed.

—That's what matters.

Fenix looked at her, incredulous.

—Is that all?

Enid set the pen down softly.

—Fenix.

Her tone was calm.

Too calm.

—You can't afford to get distracted by collateral variables.

Her eyes fixed on him.

—You did your duty.

Fenix felt an emptiness in his stomach.

—She was a child.

Enid tilted her head slightly.

—She was a risk.

The coldness of her words had no cracks.

—And now she is not.

Fenix clenched his fists.

—You can't be serious.

Enid rose from the chair.

She walked around the desk with an elegant step.

She stopped in front of him.

She observed him.

And, with an almost unsettling softness, she brought a hand to his face.

—You're letting this affect you more than necessary.

Her voice lowered slightly.

More intimate.

More controlling.

—That means you're not broken yet.

A slight smile.

—And that… is good.

Fenix did not move.

Enid brought her forehead close to his.

—Listen to me.

Her eyes showed no guilt.

No doubt.

—The world we live in does not reward weakness.

Her hand descended slowly to his chest.

—You did what others cannot do.

A pause.

—For me.

Fenix felt how those words pierced deeper than they should.

Enid stepped back.

—Don't punish yourself for it.

She returned to her desk.

She took another document.

—If you start questioning every decision… you won't last.

She signed.

As if nothing.

—And I need you functional.

The sound of the pen on paper was the only thing that remained.

Fenix remained there, in silence.

Understanding something that, deep down, he already knew.

For Enid…

That night had not been a tragedy.

It had been a success.

I tell this because I can no longer carry it in silence.

Because, in some twisted way, putting it into words makes it a little more bearable. It does not erase it. It does not justify it. But at least it stops being that constant noise that doesn't let me think.

Sometimes I think that, if I had paid attention… if I hadn't ignored certain signs… everything would have been different.

They were not small details.

They were cracks.

Evident fissures in something I insisted on seeing as solid.

And even so I looked the other way.

Because it was easier.

Because trusting hurt less than accepting the truth.

And that's why…

That's why everything that happened, happened.

Sometimes I allow myself to think about how it would have been if I had acted earlier. If I had questioned more. If I had said no.

Maybe they would still be here.

Maybe Marcus would still be laughing at my decisions.

Maybe Vanessa would still be arguing about everything.

Maybe Lucian would still be walking by my side.

Maybe… even my life would be different.

A better one.

But "maybe" changes nothing.

It's just a useless word for a reality that is already written.

Because the past is not negotiated.

It is not rewritten.

It is not corrected.

It is only dragged.

And I drag it every day.

Not as punishment.

But as a reminder.

Of what I was.

Of what I did.

And of everything I lost for not having seen in time what was right in front of me.

Catharsis, a story by Code Fenix END