Chapter 272: The Girl In The Story
"You want to hear a story?" Lara, who had remained silent the entire time, finally spoke.
The room fell quiet.
No one interrupted.
Lara took their silence as permission to continue.
"There was once a little girl," she began softly. "The daughter of a major in the army."
Her gaze drifted somewhere far away, as though she was no longer seeing the room before her.
She was seeing the past.
[Flashback]
"How many times have I told you not to lose focus?"
The roar exploded through the gym like a cannon blast.
Twelve-year-old Lara flinched.
Standing before her was Rocky—a former professional boxer with fists like sledgehammers and a body carved from stone. Sweat glistened on his broad shoulders as he towered over her small frame.
He wasn’t just her trainer. He was her nightmare.
Her father had personally hired him.
And he had given only one instruction.
No mercy.
At twelve years old, Lara barely reached the man’s chest.
Her cheek was swollen.
One eye was beginning to close from bruising.
Fresh blood trickled from the corner of her mouth.
"You lose focus again," Rocky growled, taking a step forward, "and the next punch breaks your nose."
His shadow swallowed her whole.
"Don’t think being a little girl will save you. Your father made it clear. I’m not here to babysit you."
His voice cracked like a whip.
"Now kick me."
Lara’s legs trembled. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest. She could barely stand.
The punch from moments ago still rattled inside her skull, making the world spin.
Yet she forced herself forward. Because quitting was not allowed.
Her father emphasized that It was never an option. She could die trying but never quit.
With all the strength she had left, she threw a kick. It was weak, slow and predictable.
Rocky’s hand shot out like lightning. His fingers wrapped around her ankle. The pain was immediate and brutal.
Lara cried out as his grip tightened. Tears started pouring down like the rain in August.
For a terrifying second, she was certain her bones would shatter inside his hand.
Then he let go.
Lara let out a sigh of relief.
But then, Rocky shove her with enough force to send her flying.
Her small body crashed onto the concrete floor. The impact knocked the air from her lungs.
Pain erupted everywhere...
Her bruised face...Her aching ribs...Her twisted ankle...Her battered back.
Everywhere hurt. Everything hurt like hell.
Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to cry. Because crying only earned more punishment.
The cold concrete pressed against her cheek.
The gym lights above became hazy circles.
Then darkness swallowed everything.
And the little girl never felt herself hit the floor a second time.
The present returned and she was back in the small living room.
Lara’s voice remained calm, but there was something haunting beneath it.
"That little girl spent a month in the hospital."
Her fingers slowly tightened.
"She felt hopeless, lonely and broken. She had a mother, a father and siblings. But none visited her."
A bitter smile touched her lips.
"She believed that no matter how hard she trained... no matter how much she suffered... her father would never approve of her."
"Never be proud of her."
"Never love her."
The room grew heavier with every word.
"When she finally gathered enough courage to complain, she told her father that Rocky wasn’t teaching her anything."
Lara laughed softly. There was no amusement in it.
"She said he wasn’t a coach. That he was just using her as a punching bag."
For a moment, Lara fell silent.
As though hearing the answer all over again.
Then she continued.
"Her father looked at her with a gaze as cold as ice that sucked the warmth from her eyes.
"And he asked her a few questions."
"Did Rocky tell you where he was going to punch before he hit you?"
Lara’s gaze slowly lifted.
"He said a real enemy wouldn’t explain their next move."
"Did Rocky tell you when he would attack?"
"Did he tell you where he was vulnerable?"
"Did he tell you how to defeat him?"
The silence in the room became suffocating. The way Lara asked the questions cut deep like a knife.
"Her father said life would never provide instructions. He told her that if she wanted to survive, she needed to learn how to observe."
"To think."
"To predict."
"To understand people before they acted."
"He said intelligence was a weapon and strategy was a shield."
"And he said nobody would ever hold her hand while she learned."
Lara inhaled slowly. The memory still hurt.
Even now. Even after a lifetime.
"The girl hated him for saying that. She thought her life was meaningless..."
Lara locked gaze with Sean.
"She thought she was unloved and felt that she was unwanted."
Her voice grew quieter.
"So quiet everyone had to listen carefully.
"Eventually..."
"The girl fell into depression."
A painful smile appeared on her face.
Amelia who was seated across her gasped.
"The kind where getting out of bed feels impossible. The kind where every breath feels exhausting."
"The kind where you begin wondering if anyone would care if you disappeared."
Her eyes remained focus on Sean, holding his gaze, not looking away.
"She wanted to end it all."
The room fell deathly silent.
No one spoke. No one moved.
Then Lara’s expression softened, as though she had returned to that lonely hospital room years ago.
"But she didn’t."
Her voice became distant.
"One night, while lying in a hospital bed, staring at the ceiling and wondering why she was still alive, a movie happened to be playing on the television inside the ward."
Her gaze shifted briefly toward Lionel.
"It was the story of a young boy who lost his entire family."
Lionel froze.
So did Sean.
"The boy was abandoned by his relatives and thrown into an orphanage. He had no one to rely on. No one to protect him. No one to believe in him."
Lara continued quietly.
"Life kept knocking him down. He was mocked, beaten, cheated and abandoned But every time fate pushed him into the dirt, he got back on his feet."
Her eyes gradually settled on Sean.
"There were moments when he had every reason to give up. Yet he never did, he kept fighting. He kept moving forward."
"And eventually..."
"He became the undisputed boxing champion of the world."
A faint smile appeared on Lara’s lips.
"The girl watched that movie three times while she was in the hospital. She memorized every scene, every line, every victory."
The smile deepened, touched by nostalgia.
"Somewhere along the way, she forgot about her depression."
"She forgot about her plans to end her life."
"She forgot about dying."
"Because for the first time, she wanted to become strong enough to live."
The room remained completely silent. No one dared interrupt.
Sean’s hand, resting on the armrest, slowly tightened.
For the first time since the conversation began, the calm indifference on his face cracked. A flicker of emotion flashed across his eyes before disappearing.
Lara met his gaze. Neither looked away.
Then she spoke softly.
"Uncle Sean."
The two simple words landed heavier than any praise.
Because for a brief moment, Sean no longer felt like a retired actor listening to a story.
He felt like the man that little girl had spent years looking up to.
Her voice was so gentle that it struck harder than any accusation.
"You may think it was just another movie, or simply another role."
"But to that little girl..."
Her eyes glistened.
"It was salvation."
Sean’s breathing grew uneven.
"The movie taught her something no one else could. That pain wasn’t the end."
"That being abandoned wasn’t the end."
"That losing wasn’t the end."
Lara paused. A long pause.
Long enough for every person in the room to feel the weight behind her words.
Then she continued.
"Because years later..."
"She finally understood the lesson life had been trying to teach her all along."
Her gaze never left Sean’s face.
"And when she finally understood..."
A small smile touched her lips.
"The lesson was that falling down doesn’t define you."
Her voice became firm.
"Standing back up does. And that lesson..."
She held Sean’s gaze.
"...was taught to her by an orphan boy who existed only on a movie screen."
The room became so quiet that even breathing sounded loud.
"And by the actor who brought him to life."
A heavy silence settled over the room.
No one spoke.
No one seemed capable of speaking.
The weight of Lara’s story lingered in the air, pressing against every heart in the room.
At last, Amelia rose from her seat and slowly walked to Lara’s side.
Her eyes were slightly red.
"Lara..." she said softly, her voice trembling. "The girl in the story... was she... was she you?"
Everyone looked toward Lara.
Waiting.
Lara was silent for a moment. Then a small smile curved her lips. A bittersweet smile.
The girl in the story had been Lara Fuegerro.
The broken child who had lain in a hospital bed wishing she would never wake up.
The lonely girl who had searched for hope in the glow of a television screen.
But that girl no longer existed.
She was Larissa Reyes now. A different name. A different life. A different future.
So technically...
The girl wasn’t her.
Lara lifted her eyes and met Amelia’s gaze.
"No."
Her answer came gently.
"She was someone I knew a long time ago."
