Chapter 2

Two days later.

I walked in a quiet small town. A place with a cold breeze and lots of trees along its main streets. The residents seemed quite friendly. Following the address written on the cover letter, I arrived at a clinic that looked more like a two-story private house. Several patients were seen queuing inside. Long story short, I met the clinic owner named Claire, her full name being Claire de Violeta. She welcomed me warmly into her office, which smelled of medications, of course, after I explained the purpose and goal of my visit.

"Who asked you to write Alex's biography?" asked the mid-forties woman. Her eyes looked black and clear. Her physique was not too small, nor too big. However, something about her and the look in her eyes made her seem strong yet gentle. From my experience, only mature individuals who have been through life's rough waves emit such strength. They have extraordinary resilience and give a calming feeling to those around them.

"I don't know," I said honestly while handing over the documents I had. "I received these letters and also received full payment."

Claire took them with curiosity and began reading. Whether it was just my feeling or it actually happened, her eyes looked moist and her lips trembled after reading. She took a deep breath trying to calm herself.

"Follow me," she said, standing up and leading me out of the office room. We walked through a long hallway towards a row of rooms with a medicinal scent. Suddenly, she stopped at a beautiful carved brown wooden door. She paused for quite, taking a deep breath, while looking at the door and then slowly opened it with a special key, inviting me into a private workspace with a distinctive scent. The aroma of sandalwood.

"This is Alex's workspace."

I looked at rows of bookshelves, a large wooden desk, a plush-looking sofa, a wheelchair, and a window facing a small garden that let the sunlight flood the room.

"What a beautiful workspace," I replied unconsciously.

"You can use this room to finish his biography, and I believe he kept his diary here," Claire whispered.

"His diary? Really?" I asked excitedly. That would make my job of creating his biography much easier.

"I'm not sure, I've never looked for it," Claire looked around the room with a meaningful gaze. Suddenly, her strong demeanor seemed fragile and lonely. "I've kept this room the same as it was twenty years ago."

Tears slowly flowed down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," Claire wiped her tears. "There are too many memories in this place. I can't stay here too long. All these things always remind me of him."

I nodded, and Claire took out a key to hand it to me, "Take this key, you can use this room anytime. I will inform the nurse to allow you in whenever you want." She looked at me closely before adding, "He has given me too much and I have given him too little. Come to me anytime if you need help."

I watched her leave, and suddenly from behind her, she looked very fragile.

***

Jackson Bolton and Michael Prama. Two prominent businessmen who have built a world-class international company. Their company operates in various chemical products such as bath soap, cleaning liquids, food, beverages, cosmetics, and many others. Their company has been listed among the top 100 giant multinational companies.

I didn't expect that with just a phone call to make an appointment, they would agree to meet me at their office. No long appointment queues and not even an introduction from insiders. Jackson and Michael, both in their sixties with gray hair, met me, looking friendly. They took turns reading the letter I received.

"Do you know who wrote this anonymous letter?" I asked as politely as possible, curious about the author. I had met Michael Lee, the company's financial director under Jackson and Michael. The man didn't say anything about the check given to me except, 'orders from the boss.' Alex has passed away, so it couldn't be him who wrote the letter. Unless Alex didn't really die but went into hiding. A writer's wild imagination. The most likely possibility is that someone wants Alex's biography book.

But who?

They just looked at each other and then smiled. Michael handed the letter back to me. "Just tell us what you need. We are ready to help you create Alex's biography book." Michael avoided giving a direct answer; it seems he knows who the writer is. Just like Claire.

They clearly know who the writer is, maybe one of them.

"Just a few questions about Alex's life. I hope I won't take up too much of your time," I said, feeling hesitant. After all, they are two prominent international businessmen, and surely their schedule is quite busy.

"He's back," Jackson whispered so softly, leaning back on the plush sofa, his eyes staring into the distance. Michael stood up to fetch a bottle of wine with three small glasses from his luxurious drink cabinet. I declined the drink as I was still working, and I never handle alcohol well. Michael's wrinkled hand poured wine for himself and Jackson. The aroma that emanated from the bottle was so enticing, making me regret refusing it.

"I don't mind having a little of that drink," I said unconsciously.

Michael looked understanding and poured it into my cup. The same hand then raised his glass in front of me, "Don't hesitate to ask us anything. For Alex, I'm even willing to give all employees a day off and stop all company activities in every country for a day."

Jackson smiled and raised the same cup in front of Michael, "Does that mean you're not brave enough to stop it for two days?"

Michael laughed heartily, "For Alex, we'll do anything."

Jackson laughed, raised his drink, and clinked his glass with Michael's, "For Alex."

I saw their eyes glistening.

I spent three days in the capital city interviewing both of them and a week in the place where Alex was born and raised. After that, I decided to return to the small town where Claire was.

The reason being that Alex's presence was more palpable in that small town. In places like Alex's parents' house, his schools and universities, and his workplace, Alex seemed to isolate himself and limit social interactions. He lived just to pass through them without leaving any trace or shadow, not many people remembered him in those places. If they did, they only knew Alex as a quiet person with two disabled feet who often belittled himself.

They only remembered him physically. However, in that small town, his emotional existence and presence were clear, especially around Claire. He stepped out of the shell he always wore and showed himself.

In that small town, I stayed in one of its inns for several months, trying to gather information about Alex from Claire and the people around where he used to be. Several times, I worked in Alex's office, which Claire has been cleaning regularly for decades.

At the end of my search, I found out that Alex was a professor in the field of chemistry, a lecturer at the small town university, a writer, a chemistry expert, and someone who had made a name for himself in the world through over a hundred of his new chemical product discoveries using a pseudonym.

However, my instinct as a writer told me that something was missing from all of this. Like a puzzle game, there were some missing pieces from its board. There was something hidden by Alex, and I was intrigued to try to find it.

I tried to check all of Alex's legacy books to find his diary or personal notes. Three days later, after going through all of his books, I found nothing. The only place I hadn't checked was a locked drawer in his desk.

Claire didn't have the key. Which meant whatever was inside had been there for years. Remembering a small old key that was sent with the package, I took it out and tried my luck. The key smoothly entered the hole, with a slow twist, I heard a 'click' sound, and the drawer opened.

My heart raced with joy; inside were four books. I took one and looked inside. Clearly, it was a handwritten diary. Next, I read and studied all four diaries. Only then did I understand who instructed me to write Alex's biography. And the real purpose of this book was to be made with secrecy about the names of places and notes for the authenticity of the biography.

Because this book was not meant to record Alex's achievements and success in the world, although he achieved remarkable feats for someone with both feet disabled since childhood. This book I'm making will only record about him, his life, and his life journey as a human being. Recording weaknesses, mistakes, and black marks he made against those around him to achieve everything he built around Claire.

This book will tell the story of Alex and Claire and the things he kept secret until his death. Because this book contains a personal request from its requester to someone he deeply loved. However, it was something he could never possess.