Chapter: The Name Among Shadows

Several days had passed since Olivia found the letter in the mailbox. The name "Elías" kept echoing in her mind. Who had this man really been, the one who helped Tom not give up? Was he still alive? Would he remember Tom with as much love as Tom had for him?

Sitting in front of her computer, Olivia typed into the search bar: "Elías + writing + rehabilitation + city." It wasn't much, but it was a start. Among forgotten pages, old articles, and abandoned forums, she found a small entry on a community writing workshop's blog. It read:

"Elías C. — self-taught writer, emotional mentor, and founder of 'Words That Heal,' a workshop for young people in emotional recovery. He writes about grief, loss, and redemption."

Further down, a photo. Olivia felt a knot in her stomach: the man had a serene gaze, the kind that seemed to have seen too much. The workshop was still active. He was still teaching. And most importantly: it was in her city.

That same afternoon, Olivia went.

The place was an old library repurposed, with plants hanging from the ceiling and the smell of aged paper. She asked for Elías, and a woman led her to a small room where he was editing manuscripts.

When he looked up, he recognized her instantly. Not by name, but by the shadow in her eyes.

—"Are you Olivia?"—he asked, as if he already knew.

She nodded, her voice trembling.

—"He spoke of you... like someone speaks of the sun after living too long in the dark."

Elías stood and invited her to sit. They talked for hours. He told her how he had met Tom, how he helped him write for the first time, how together they faced fears that once felt endless.

—"He always said that if he was ever gone, he wanted you to know he had been more than his ending. That you were the best thing that ever happened to him, and that he wanted you to find the rest of his story. Not to be afraid of the broken parts."

When Olivia said goodbye, Elías handed her a notebook. Another one.

—"He asked me to give it to you, if you ever came."

That night, with the notebook in her hands, Olivia wrote another letter—one that spoke of discovery, of gratitude, of a love still alive among unspoken words.