Chapter Seven: The Echo of Words

Capsule 1: "Amber"

I read your book on a sleepless night. I was sitting in the hospital hallway, waiting for news about my mother. I had promised myself that if she didn't wake up, I wouldn't either. But your sentence, the one that says, "Sometimes living isn't moving forward, but staying still without letting the pain drag you," made me stay. Today, Mom is gone. But I'm still here. And I talk to her about you when I see the flowers. Thank you for staying, Olivia.

—

Capsule 2: "The Traveler"

My name is Iker. I left home after losing my brother. I traveled halfway across the world without purpose, carrying guilt. I bought your book in a station in Lisbon. I didn't think anyone could understand what I felt. But reading you was like walking beside someone. Now I have your phrase tattooed on my arm: "Live for me." Because it's my way of telling my brother I haven't forgotten him, that I live for him, too.

—

Capsule 3: "Sofía"

I was 17 when I read you. And it was the first time I cried without feeling weak. At my age, no one talks about grief without people saying, "You're young, it will pass." But you gave me permission to feel. Now I want to study literature. I want to write something that embraces like you embraced me from those pages. I don't know if you'll ever read this, but thank you for teaching me that pain is also part of love.

—

Capsule 4: "Valeria & Matías"

We've been together for 12 years. We read your book together, aloud, before bed. When we lost our baby, we stopped talking for weeks. Your story made us look at each other's pain without fear. Today, we replanted the orchids we loved. And every time they bloom, we know it's because someone taught us to stay, even when it hurts.

—

Capsule 5: "From a Train"

I didn't sign this letter. I don't know if it matters. I just wanted to tell you that I thought about jumping that afternoon, but you spent two pages telling me that the little things matter too. The sun on my skin. A borrowed book. The voice of someone I love. I kept the train ticket and got off at the next station. I never knew you, but I feel like you saw me. Thank you.

The gallery was busier than usual. Olivia noticed it as soon as she entered, guided by Elías, who had told her with a mischievous smile that there was a new exhibit she had to see. She didn't suspect anything until she noticed the lights were dimmer, and the walls weren't lined with paintings... but with letters. Carefully framed pieces of paper, accompanied by photographs, small objects, and phrases embroidered or handwritten.

A soft voice echoed through the speakers. It was hers. Reading passages from Live for Me.

"What is this...?" Olivia murmured, bringing a hand to her chest.

Luciana appeared beside her, Matteo hanging from her arm. She smiled with tenderness.

"It's the echo of what you've left in the world," she said. "We... we organized this without you knowing. People who read your book started sending letters, emails, even recordings. They wanted to thank you. To tell you they weren't alone because you stayed."

Olivia walked slowly between the panels of the exhibit. There was a letter written on a napkin from a café in Quito. A school notebook with a confession scrawled: "I didn't want to live until I read you." A photograph of a tattoo: live for me written in Tom's exact handwriting, taken from the manuscript.

In a more secluded corner, a display case protected a sheet with smudged ink. The text barely visible, but full of truth:

"I read you on a train, thinking about disappearing. I decided to get off at the next station. Sometimes a book doesn't save the world... but it does save someone. And you saved me."

Olivia covered her mouth. Tears flowed without permission. Elías hugged her in silence. Luciana came closer, and behind her, Gloria, Merlyn, and Alejandra, all emotional, all proud.

"This is what you've sown," Merlyn told her. "You thought you were writing for yourself... and without knowing it, you wrote for everyone who needed to hear something beautiful in the midst of pain."

Olivia took a breath. She felt Tom. She felt his voice caressing her in the wind, in every word someone had written, in every story reflected.

And for the first time, she didn't just feel nostalgia.

She felt peace.