Chapter 3

Althea~

“Thank you for the cupcakes! I’m sure Raven will love them,” I said with a wide smile, grateful to Xyra for the chocolate cupcake gift.

I was in her pastry shop. I dropped by before lunch from the company where I worked.

Xyra—my Belgian friend—smiled sweetly. I waved one hand before stepping out of the shop.

I inhaled deeply, taking in the sweet scent of freshly baked croissants and pastries wafting through the air as I stepped onto the brick pavement. I looked at the small box in my hand, wrapped with a blue ribbon. I didn’t expect her to give a gift for my son’s birthday.

I took a deep breath as I looked around. I’m savoring the tranquil atmosphere of the city that I had come to love. Brussels, with its cobbled streets and picturesque squares, had been my home for seven years. It’s where I raised Raven—a peaceful place far from my chaotic past. But despite the comfort and serenity, sometimes I still feel trapped in that nightmare.

My brows furrowed when my phone rang. I shifted the box to my other hand and rummaged through my bag. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name of Raven’s Academy flashing on the screen.

“Hello, this is Althea Marquez,” I answered.

“Ms. Marquez, this is Mrs. Cruix from the Brussels Academy. We need you to come to the school as soon as possible. There’s been... an accident with your son,” she said in a calm yet concerned tone.

It felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me. My heart shrank. An accident? With Raven? This was the first time something like this had happened. In all seven years, he had never been in a fight. My child is rebelling against me, somehow. I’m afraid not. My grip on the phone tightened as I tried to calm myself.

“What happened? Is he alright?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

“Your son... he’s in the principal’s office right now. It’s best if we discuss this in person, Ms. Marquez. Can you come immediately?”

I swallowed hard, worry etched on my face. Raven had always been a quiet child—perhaps a bit more reserved than others—but I knew he wasn’t a troublemaker. What could have happened? I glanced at the box one last time—a simple gift for his birthday that suddenly felt meaningless in the face of my fear.

“I’ll be there right away,” I said with a nod and climbed into my parked car. I ended the call, placed the phone back in my bag, and, with shaking hands, closed the door and gripped the steering wheel.

My mind was a mess. What if something bad happened to him? What if he’s hurt? No more what-ifs—I need to get there now. But Raven had been acting out lately—growing withdrawn, his outbursts more frequent. No, maybe he’s just stressed from transferring to a new school. He’s entering second grade—it’s normal. Ugh, it’s hard being a single parent.

I started the car and sped through the city. The familiar streets of Brussels became a blur. The beautiful architecture, quiet parks, and charming cafés felt like illusions. Within minutes, I reached the school’s parking lot.

My chest tightened with each step as I clutched my leather handbag. I walked through the corridor toward the Director’s Office. I didn’t care anymore how elegant this old school was—with its grand oil paintings and intricate gold moldings glowing under the chandelier’s light.

I exhaled before turning the brass doorknob of the double doors marked: Director’s Office.

I was greeted by the seated Mrs. Cruix, a blonde Belgian woman with her hair tied up, wearing a black dress and thick glasses. Judging by her appearance, she was probably in her mid-40s—but she still looked youthful.

“Ms. Marquez, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, come in,” she said with a smile.

I smiled back and quickly followed her inside the office.

I immediately spotted my son. He was sitting at the edge of the desk, clutching the sleeve of his uniform jacket, lips pressed in a tight pout. My chest ached. They were treating my son like a criminal.

The Principal, Mr. Dolyent—a middle-aged man with graying hair and a stern expression—sat behind his desk. “Ms. Marquez, thank you for coming.”

I focused my attention on Raven. I gave him a polite smile. “What happened? Why is my son here?”

The principal and his secretary exchanged glances before looking back at me.

“There’s been a complaint from one of the parents. Apparently, Raven… he pushed another student to the ground. There’s been some tension between him and his classmates,” the principal explained.

I looked at Raven. His eyes were red, and he looked like a pleading puppy. I knelt in front of him and cupped his small hands. “Is this true, sweetheart? Did you push someone?”

He bit his lip, and tears began to fall. “He called me names, Mom… He said… he said I don’t have a father because… because no one wants me…” he said in a hoarse voice.

His words hit me like a punch in the gut. A wave of pain and rage surged in me, but I forced myself to stay calm—for his sake.

“Oh, sweetheart... I’m sorry.” I wiped his tears with my fingers.

I turned back to the principal. “This isn’t just about Raven’s behavior, sir. My son is being bullied. I won’t let this continue.”

He shifted nervously in his seat, clearly surprised by my assertiveness. “We… we’ll look into it, Ms. Marquez. But in the meantime—”

“In the meantime, I’ll take Raven home. We’ll discuss this further once the other child’s parents are present,” I cut him off. I stood and gave him a sharp glare.

I didn’t wait for a response. I grabbed my son’s hand and quickly left the office. As we walked through the hallway, Raven was still sobbing. I was furious. No one would make my son feel unwanted. No one.

I tried my best to fill him with love so he wouldn’t feel the absence of a father. But moments like this were inevitable.

The cool midday breeze brushed my face, signaling the approaching cold of late September.

“Mom, why don’t I have a father? Everyone says… you didn’t want me to have one.”

I froze. The pain in my chest was unbearable. I knelt before him and wiped his tears. “Sweetheart, I promise you. That’s not true. You do have a daddy, and one day, you’ll meet him. That’s my promise.”

“Really?” he asked, trying to calm himself.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. I looked him straight in the eyes. Let me lie, my son. I just can’t bear to see you hurting.

“Yes, my love. I’ll make sure of it,” I said and forced a smile. He must never see me sad.

---

The soft morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of my apartment. I smiled as I inhaled the rich aroma of coffee while preparing for work. I buttoned my blouse and glanced at the ticking wall clock. I needed to get in early today.

I was putting on makeup when my phone suddenly rang. I grabbed it and checked the screen. An anonymous caller—but I knew it was a Philippine number. And I knew it was my grandfather, Lolo Fernando.

Taking a deep breath, I hesitantly answered.

“Lolo?” I said gently, my heart pounding.

“Althea! Why did it take you so long to answer? Are those Belgians keeping you so busy you can’t even answer my calls?” he said, scolding me like a fire-breathing dragon.

“I-I’m sorry, Lolo,” I said, guilt washing over me. I hadn’t called him in days. “I’m getting ready for work. How are you? Are you doing okay?”

Silence followed. I could only hear his labored breathing and the clinking of dishes—probably his nurse busy in the kitchen. When he spoke again, his words were filled with longing and weariness, sending a wave of dread through my chest.

“When are you coming home?” he asked firmly, his tone impatient. “Althea, I’ve been asking for months now—when are you bringing your son here? Do you want me to die without ever meeting my grandson?”

Goosebumps prickled my skin. Lolo was trying to scare me again.

“Don’t talk like that,” I scolded, my voice trembling. “I don’t know when I’m going home. Things are a little… complicated.”

"What's so complicated?" Grandpa's voice cracked, unable to hold back the mix of anger and pain. "What could be more important than family, Althea? I’m not getting any younger! Don’t you understand? I want to see my great-grandson before I close my eyes for good. Is that too much to ask?"

I bit my lip, hard. I couldn’t answer right away. My heart throbbed in guilt and confusion.

"Lolo… I understand. I really do. But Raven’s life is here now. He’s just starting to adjust. He’s got school, new friends…" I trailed off, knowing that even I wasn’t fully convinced by my own excuses.

"But does he know who he is? Where he came from? Don’t you think he has the right to know his roots? Or are you just going to keep hiding him from us forever?"

His words pierced through me like a blade. My vision blurred with unshed tears. I wasn’t hiding Raven out of spite. I was protecting him—from the past, from the truth… from the pain.

"I’ll think about it, Lolo," I whispered.

"You’ve been thinking for years, hija. Think faster. I'm not immortal," he said gruffly before hanging up.

The call ended, but the weight of his words stayed with me. I sat on the edge of my bed, the silence of the room closing in.

Raven… what would he think if he found out everything? About the father he never knew? About why we left in the first place?

A knock pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Mom?" Raven peeked into the room, his small face still a little swollen from crying earlier. "Can I come in?"

I opened my arms and he ran into them, nestling into my chest like he used to when he was a baby.

"Of course, baby. You can always come to me."

"Will I ever meet Daddy?" he asked again, in a much softer voice.

My heart cracked all over again.

"Someday," I said. "When the time is right."

And when I’m ready to face everything I ran from.