Echoes Before Dawn

"Echoes Before Dawn"

It was midnight.

The mansion stood silent and stately under the silver glow of the moon, surrounded by acres of manicured gardens and old iron gates that creaked in the wind. As one entered the villa, the first thing that caught the eye was the grand living room — expansive, elegant, and filled with a quiet kind of opulence.

On one side of the marble wall hung a large framed portrait of the owner and his late wife. Diamonds studded the corners of the frame, catching the chandelier’s light and scattering it across the room in shimmering patterns. Opposite the portrait, an antique brass lamp stood proudly on an oakwood table, its carved legs telling stories of time and craftsmanship.

Above, a crystal chandelier dominated the ceiling, casting a warm golden glow that bathed the entire space in elegance.

At the far end of the room, a grand staircase curved upward, its railings polished to a mirror shine. They led directly to the private chambers of David Ross — a name known across business circles, media headlines, and elite social spheres. A self-made billionaire, Ross was worth nearly 2000 crores, but tonight, like many nights before, money offered no comfort.

His bedroom was a dream in design — classic, yet minimal. The walls, painted in muted greys and blues, contrasted softly with the warmer tones of the living room below. A study table sat near the window, cluttered with a few books, open files, and a half-written letter. Beside the bed stood a small side table holding a glass of water, and just across the room, a leather couch that looked barely used.

David lay asleep, breath steady, body heavy from the day’s endless meetings and negotiations. But then, something shifted.

Suddenly, he jolted upright — eyes wide, chest rising fast. He reached for the glass and drank quickly, as if the water could wash away the remnants of whatever he had just seen.

His hands trembled slightly.

It wasn’t the first time.

He had woken like this many nights before — disturbed, disoriented, haunted by something he couldn’t quite explain. A hallucination? A memory? A warning?

And though the room was perfectly still… it felt like something unseen had just left. Or arrived.It was her — or rather, her memory.

The silence of the night had given way to something far louder: remembrance.

David leaned back against the headboard, eyes unfocused, lost in the flood of memories he could no longer hold back.

It was her again — Marie.

His beloved wife.

He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that holds both joy and pain. Her image came to him so vividly that, for a moment, it felt like she was right there beside him — laughing, teasing, living. He remembered how they had met years ago, back in college. It hadn’t been love at first sight. In fact, they could barely stand each other in those early days.

They would argue about everything — from opinions in class debates to who got the last seat in the library. Their little fights were the talk of their friends. But somewhere in between the sarcasm and stubbornness, something changed. A strange kind of admiration grew. They began noticing the small things — the way she never judged anyone, the way he always pushed himself to do more, be more.

They were both dreamers. Ambitious. Determined to carve out their place in the world. And through all their challenges, they stood beside each other — as supporters, as motivators, as best friends.

David remembered how stunning Marie was in her younger days. Not just in looks — though she was beautiful in a soft, elegant way — but in spirit. People were drawn to her kindness, her ability to make anyone feel seen, understood, loved.

After graduation, their paths diverged temporarily. David had gone abroad to pursue his master’s in business, while Marie stayed back to continue her studies. She eventually took over her father’s company — a failing business at the time, due to his declining health. But Marie, with quiet resilience, turned things around.

Years later, David returned with a degree in one hand and hope in the other. When they reunited, it was like no time had passed at all. They embraced like the world hadn’t shifted beneath them.

David launched his own company, and in just a few years, he became one of the country’s youngest industrialists. Marie was right by his side — always. Not just cheering from the sidelines, but building something of her own.

They got married soon after.

A quiet ceremony. No media. No headlines. Just love.

They weren’t just husband and wife. They were partners — in business, in life, in everything. They laughed together, fought together, built together. People admired them, even envied them. But only David knew how deep their connection truly ran.

Two years after their marriage, David and Marie were blessed with a baby boy. Their happiness doubled — no, tripled — as their little family began to grow. David was a devoted husband and father in those early days. He would hold the baby in his arms, watch Marie’s eyes light up with joy, and wonder how he had ever lived before them.

But time, as it always does, began to change things.

David became busier — consumed by meetings, deals, deadlines. He was building an empire, determined to reach the very top. Success became his obsession. In the process, the long dinners, slow walks, and shared moments between him and Marie grew fewer. Their lives, once intertwined, slowly began drifting on separate tracks.

Marie, graceful as ever, never complained. She focused on raising their son with love and patience, nurturing him with the same tenderness she once gave David. Still, he remembered the quiet in her eyes — the kind of silence that says what words can’t.

Years passed.

Then came the blow that changed everything.

Marie was diagnosed with cancer — and it was already at the final stage. No doctor, no amount of wealth, no influence could save her. David was shattered.

For the first time, he saw how meaningless his billions were when the one person he loved most was slipping through his fingers.

He dropped everything — the business meetings, the expansions, the numbers — and came back to her. In those final weeks, they lived more fully than they had in years. They revisited their favourite places, laughed at old jokes, reminisced about college fights and first kisses. David apologised to her for all the time lost, for the promises he broke, for chasing a world that never truly mattered.

And Marie — ever gentle, ever forgiving — smiled through her pain and said,

“You were always mine. Even in your silence. And I was always yours.”

She passed away in his arms, smiling.

Suddenly, the silence was broken.

It was around 2 AM when the front door creaked open downstairs.

The clang of the front door echoed through the mansion, followed by laughter and footsteps. David blinked, pulled from the depths of his memories.

His son had returned — now a grown man, with his own family. They entered the room to check on him, his presence always a quiet anchor in the house. His grandchildren rushed in first, their faces lit with excitement.

“Grandpa! You should have seen the dance at the school function today!”

“We got a certificate!”

“I was the tree in the play!”

David smiled — really smiled — as he hugged them tightly. Their joy was contagious, and for a few moments, the weight of the past melted under the warmth of the present.

After some time, they all said their goodnights and left his room, the echoes of their laughter fading down the hallway.

David was alone again.

But not lonely.

He looked around the room — at the glass of water, the family photograph, the books on the table — and whispered softly to the night,

“Marie, they’re doing well. You’d be proud.”

“I just wish,” he whispered, his voice cracking ever so slightly, “you were here to see him. To see the man our little boy has become.”

He looked up at Marie’s portrait, her eyes forever frozen in love.

As the clock ticked deeper into the night, David sat still — eyes wet, heart heavy — reliving the reel of their life like a film only he could see.

Somewhere, a breeze stirred the curtains. The chandelier above swayed just slightly, casting fractured light across the room. David didn’t move. He didn't need to.

He whispered into the silence, “I miss you, Marie.”

Then he closed his eyes, not in grief this time, but in peace — surrounded by the legacy of the love they built.