Until We Met Again ( Rowan and Johnson )
Chapter 34

Chapter 34 

Do you realize he’s vanished into thin air? Why did he disappear? And who’s got it in for him? Karla’s questions tumbled out urgently, but it was the last one that hung in the air, suspended for three agonizing seconds before she could voice it. “And Rowan, did he really bite the dust?” 

However, Nicholas‘ reply dropped Karla into the depths of despair. 

“I’m terribly sorry. I don’t know,” Nicholas shook his head, his face the very picture of cluelessness. But then he shot back a question at Karla, “Why on earth would you think. I’d know anything about him?” 

Karla pouted, her reluctance palpable. “It’s because I don’t have other options. You’re the only one I can ask.” 

“It’s been decades since he and I ran in the same circles,” Nicholas said, his gaze turning wistful. Heaving a sigh, he continued, “I’m a disgrace, a coward. I don’t deserve to meet him.” 

“What are you getting at?” Karla sensed a story buried beneath his words. 

Nicholas battled his emotions, but finally, he could hold back no longer. “Back in the day, to get back at Landon, I stooped to his level. I thought I could use him…” 

“You used Rowan? What did you do to him?” Karla’s tone hardened, disgusted by the thought of someone exploiting a child – a move all too characteristic of him. 

It was clear as day to Karla; none of the people around Rowan were good news. Each one was playing a long game, none with genuine intentions. 

“I lost my head after Joana’s death, blinded by hatred. All I wanted was to avenge her, Nicholas confessed, perhaps feeling the specter of mortality. His recent reflections on the past only intensified his guilt towards Rowan, the boy he’d hurt. 

Karla felt a surge of anger. How could they all be so selfish? 

“My only wish now is to reclaim Joana’s last painting before I kick the bucket,” Nicholas said, grabbing a small remote. He pressed a button, and curtains on one side of the room. parted, revealing a display case filled with paintings, one of them unmistakably about her. Karla moved closer to inspect them. It was obvious, even to her untrained eye, that these were the works of Joana. The early pieces were vibrant with color but grew darker over time. Even without an artist’s eye, it was clear these were masterpieces. 

As Karla scanned each painting, she froze at the last one. Memories and images flooded her mind, and her eyes welled with tears. 

The painting captured Rowan at twelve, sitting alone in a garden, butterflies flitting around 

him. He seemed to gaze into the distance, his expression forlom. Loneliness, silence, and solitude – that was the essence of this artwork. 

Karla suddenly yearned to hold him, and as she snapped back to reality, she found herself pressed against the display case, tears streaming down her face. 

“If you like this painting, I could give it to you,” Nicholas offered. 

“Really?” Karla dabbed at her tears. 

Nicholas gave a wry smile. “I can never make it up to him. The guilt’s been a monkey on my back for years, never easing up. If making you happy can alleviate my guilt toward him, I am willing to do anything.” 

“Because you were his North Star.” 

His North Star? The irony stung Karla. As the most important person in his life, she had inadvertently cut the deepest. 

“Ms. Karla, what’s done is done, and can’t be undone. But your kindness, I’ll never forget it.” 

Before Karla left, Nicholas implored her, “I know you’re wary of me, and rightfully so. Even though I’m in the dark about what’s happened to you, if you ever cross paths with Rowan again, could you do me a favor? Pass on a message?* 

“Tell him I’m sorry, and… thank you.” 

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