I was sitting in the university library, my laptop open in front of me. The first thing I searched was the name Mrs. Cortes had mentioned earlier. A few minutes ago, I had asked her about Isabella Gomez, the student who mysteriously disappeared in 1995. At first, she looked surprised by my question. Then she quietly signaled one of the assistant librarians to watch the front desk before asking me to follow her. She led me to her office, a room filled with old books, antique decorations, and shelves lined with dusty photo albums. Everything inside felt like it belonged to another era. As I looked around, my eyes landed on several framed photographs displayed on a cabinet. One picture immediately caught my attention.

Isabel.

She was standing beside a group of students, smiling brightly at the camera. Without thinking, I picked up the frame and stared at her face. She looked so... beautiful.

"Ahem." The sound of someone clearing her throat snapped me back to reality. I quickly turned around and found Mrs. Cortes looking at me. Her expression was calm, but there was something unreadable in her eyes.

"S-Sorry," I said awkwardly.

I carefully placed the picture frame back where I had found it before walking over to the chair in front of her desk.

She folded her hands together. "So..."

"Why are you asking about Isabella Gomez?"

For a brief moment, I hesitated. I couldn't tell her the truth. If I admitted that I had been meeting Isabel in the forest, she'd probably think I had lost my mind.

So...

I lied.

"My friend is a journalism student," I said with a nervous smile. "He's working on a project about unsolved cases, and Isabella Gomez's disappearance is one of them. I promised I'd help him gather information. And..." I let out a small, forced laugh. "He helped me with one of my projects before, so I'm just returning the favor."

Mrs. Cortes remained silent. She studied my face for several long seconds, her eyes searching for any sign that I wasn't telling the truth. I honestly thought she didn't believe a single word I had said. The longer she stared at me, the more nervous I became.

But then...

She gave a slow nod.

"I see."

Relief washed over me. She leaned back in her chair and quietly looked at the framed photograph resting on her desk.

The same photograph...

Mrs. Cortes and Isabella Gomez embraced each other tightly. For a moment, sadness flickered across Mrs. Cortes' face, her eyes growing distant as if the photograph had brought back a memory she had carried with her for years. It was the look of someone remembering a person she had never truly forgotten.

"Isabella..." Mrs. Cortes whispered as she stared at the framed photograph on her desk.

A gentle smile slowly appeared on her face.

It was the first time I had ever seen her smile.

She was usually strict, always wearing a serious expression with one eyebrow raised, so seeing her like this caught me by surprise.

"Isabella was one of the kindest, smartest, and most beautiful students this university has ever had," she said softly. "She had everything—a brilliant mind, a beautiful heart, and a presence that people couldn't help but notice. There were so many students who admired her, both boys and girls. She was the kind of person people naturally wanted to be around."

She chuckled quietly.

"If you're wondering why she appears in so many of these photographs..." She glanced around the office.

"...it's because this child practically lived in the library."

I looked around at the old pictures again. Almost every album had at least one photo of Isabel.

"She would come here almost every day," Mrs. Cortes continued. "No one ever asked her to. She simply volunteered."

"She helped us organize books, clean the shelves, return borrowed books to their proper places, and even bring us food. She was always finding little ways to help, even when no one asked her to."

Mrs. Cortes laughed to herself as another memory surfaced.

"She always told me..."

'Skipping meals is bad for your health, Ma'am. Come on, let's eat.'

I couldn't help but smile.

"Eventually, we officially accepted her as a library volunteer. Whenever she had free time—or after her classes—you could always find her here." Mrs. Cortes shook her head, still smiling. "The funny thing was, our library only allowed students to borrow five books for three days, but Isabella always wanted to borrow ten books and keep them for an entire week." She laughed.

"I always teased her."

'You're only volunteering here because you love books.'

Mrs. Cortes' smile softened.

"And every single time..." she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "She'd hug me and say..."

"No, Ma'am. I really want to help."

"Especially you, Ma'am. I want you to know something...You're one of the kindest librarians I've ever met. I know a lot of students are scared of you. They think you're too strict, too serious, or maybe even a little mean sometimes. But I'm not scared of you, Ma'am, because I got to see the person behind that strict face. I saw how you quietly help students even when no one notices. I saw how you remember the little things. I saw how you care, even when you don't say it, and I wish everyone could see that side of you too."

"Sometimes, people judge us by what they see on the outside. They see the strict voice, the serious face, the things we do wrong... but they never stop to wonder what's happening inside."

""Maybe that's why I want to help you. Because everyone deserves to be understood. Everyone deserves someone who sees the good in them, even when they can't see it in themselves. So, please, Ma'am... don't hide that smile. Just give me one. Not because you have to, but because I want you to remember that someone sees you, someone appreciates you, and someone is grateful for the kindness you've shown, even when you thought nobody noticed. So come on, Ma'am... give me a smile. You deserve to smile too."

The office fell silent.

Then the smile disappeared from Mrs. Cortes' face.

"One day..."

"She disappeared."

Her eyes slowly filled with tears. "We helped search for Isabella. My husband didn't want me to join the search because it wasn't safe, but I begged him. Eventually, he gave in and came with me." She wiped a tear from her cheek. "I couldn't just stay home. To me..." Her voice trembled. "...Isabella was like the daughter I never had." My chest tightened. I never imagined they had been this close.

We sat in silence for a few seconds. Then, Mrs. Cortes suddenly looked up.

"Oh..." Mrs. Cortes suddenly looked up. "I almost forgot. Isabella had two very close friends—one boy and one girl. Sometimes, she'd bring them here with her, and the three of them would help organize the books together. They were always together. Whenever Isabella was here, you could almost always find the two of them nearby."

I silently frowned.

Could those have been Mom and Dad?

"But..."

Mrs. Cortes hesitated.

"There was someone else," Mrs. Cortes said, her expression suddenly becoming thoughtful. "I'm not sure if he was her best friend... or maybe someone she loved. She always insisted she didn't have a boyfriend, but she often mentioned a young man named Mark."

My heart skipped.

"One afternoon, I even saw Mark and Isabella's male best friend arguing outside the library. They were both furious, and the argument became so heated that they nearly came to blows." She sighed, her expression turning serious as if the memory still troubled her.

"I always thought they were fighting because of Isabella," she said thoughtfully. "I'm certain her male best friend had feelings for her. I could see it in the way he looked at her, and the way he reacted whenever another boy got close to her."

The room became quiet again.

Mrs. Cortes looked down at the photograph, her expression slowly turning somber. "It's been so many years..." she whispered. "And yet... we still don't know what truly happened to her." She remained silent for a moment, gently running her fingers over the edge of the photograph before finally looking back at me.

"You know..."

"I've also heard the stories about the forest." She stared at me with an unreadable expression. She stared at me with an unreadable expression.

"Have you ever heard of a..." i looked at her with curiosity.

"...Fragmented Soul?"

I frowned.

The Woman in the White Dress

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