đź“– Chapter 1: The Voice Behind the Door
“Oyena.”
She had never heard the name before.
Not in class. Not in a book. Not even in church.
But the way the woman in the water spoke it — like it belonged to her soul — made Aurora’s entire body jolt awake.
She sat up sharply in bed, soaked in sweat, chest tight.
The dream clung to her skin: a wide river, glistening under moonlight, and a woman with thick braided hair standing ankle-deep in the water. Her arms open. Her mouth still. Yet Aurora had heard the name as if it had been sung through every drop of water.
“Oyena...”
She didn’t know what it meant.
But something in her gut — in her blood — trembled at the sound of it.
---
The scent of almond croissants floated into her room.
Martin was baking again. Lawrence would be in the sunroom, humming along to something soft and classical. Their house — all white walls, hardwood floors, and too many books — felt like a dream she had been placed inside but never truly belonged in.
Sixteen years old. Final year of school. Top of her class.
Aurora Page Bermingham. That’s what the world called her.
But lately... that name felt like someone else’s coat she had been forced to wear. Too tight. Too clean. Too cold.
---
She dragged herself to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her face.
She paused.
The water in the basin rippled. She hadn’t touched it.
And there it was again.
“Oyena...”
This time, not from outside her.
From within.
---
“Sweetheart,” Martin called from downstairs, “your tea’s getting cold!”
Aurora looked at her reflection. Her dark eyes were tired, but sharp.
Her locs were wrapped in a headscarf her dads bought her at a craft market, not knowing it resembled one worn by isangomas.
She blinked.
The water in the basin was still again.
---
She walked into the kitchen, expression calm, smile automatic.
“Morning,” she greeted, kissing Lawrence’s cheek.
“Morning, my girl,” he said, rubbing her shoulder. “You look a little pale. Bad dream?”
She hesitated.
How do you explain a woman in a river calling you by a name you’ve never heard... but that feels like home?
“Just tired,” she said instead. “Final year stress, I guess.”
Martin smiled and passed her the tea. “You’ll conquer it, like always. Our clever girl. Our Aurora.”
Aurora. Aurora Page.
But in the deepest corners of her heart, the river still called.
“Oyena.”
And even though the house was warm and full of love, a door inside her had begun to open.
And something old — something true — was waiting behind it.
---
