Chapter 72 – The Reunion

Clara’s POV

After dropping the kids off at school, I hurried to my workplace.

The street was already noisy with vendors shouting prices and buses honking as they sped past. Sweat gathered on my forehead, but I didn’t mind. It was another normal day — or so I thought.

My workplace was a tailoring shop on Commercial Street. The signboard above the entrance read Oli’s Stitches in bold red letters, though the edges had started fading. Inside, the familiar smell of fabric, starch, and machine oil filled the air. Threads of different colors hung neatly on the walls. Two sewing machines clicked softly in rhythm as the other workers bent over their work.

I hung my bag on the small hook by the door, tied my scarf tighter, and walked to my station. My hands moved automatically — cutting, folding, stitching. Years of practice had made me fast. I wasn’t rich, but this job kept food on the table. It let my daughter, Mannie, and her eight children eat and smile. That was enough for me.

Time flew. Before I knew it, the sound of the clock ticking above the doorway reminded me it was late afternoon. The sun had shifted, sending long shadows across the tiled floor. I paused to stretch my back.

My thoughts wandered. I thought about the kids — how lively the house had been this morning. Sophie had complained about tying her shoelaces; Adam had spilled his milk; Zane had drawn something on the kitchen wall again. Yet, the house had been full of laughter.

A faint smile touched my lips.

Just then, I heard the sharp clacking of high heels approaching.

“Mrs. Clara, please go pick up the material from Diamond,” my boss, Miss Oli, said as she appeared in the doorway, graceful as ever. “Then you can go home.”

“Yes, ma. Am I to get your favorite pastries as well?” I asked with a small smile.

Her face brightened. “You know me too well. Tell Mrs. Diamond it’s on the company’s account.”

“Yes, ma,” I replied, bowing slightly.

She waved a manicured hand and disappeared back into her office.

I smiled faintly and untied my apron. Working at Oli’s Stitches wasn’t high-paying, but it kept us from starving. I was the mending specialist and did embroidery too. My hands weren’t as fast as they once were, but I still worked with pride.

I stepped out of the shop and blinked as sunlight hit my eyes. The street outside was busy — cars, people, and chatter everywhere. I raised my hand to shield my eyes and started walking, the faint smell of roasted groundnuts and fried snacks filling the air.

I crossed the road carefully, holding my skirt down as the wind blew. My destination was the Diamond Bakery and Boutique across the street — a place that sold sweet pastries and sometimes kept fabric materials for Miss Oli.

When I got there, Mrs. Diamond greeted me with her usual wide smile. “Ah, Mrs. Clara! You came on time. Your boss will be pleased.”

I laughed softly. “You know she hates waiting.”

Mrs. Diamond handed me a paper bag wrapped neatly with ribbons — the clothing material. “And the pastries,” she said, sliding another bag across the counter. “Still on her tab.”

“Thank you,” I said, adjusting the bags in my arms.

One bag held the material; the other smelled faintly of butter and sugar.

I stepped back onto the road, ready to cross, when something caught my eye — a group of children standing near the tall glass building at the corner of the street. They were huddled together, whispering and looking around.

At first, I smiled. Children being curious wasn’t new. But as I squinted against the sunlight, my smile faded.

They looked… familiar.

The way one of them tilted his head, the way another folded her arms....

“Why do they look like my grandchildren?” I muttered under my breath, frowning. “No… that can’t be. I dropped them at school myself.”

A wave of panic rushed through me. My grip on the bags tightened. “What are they doing here? Did something happen at school?” My heart began to race. The thought of danger made my chest heavy.

I crossed the street quickly, my slippers slapping against the pavement. As I got closer, the small voices became clearer.

And then, I saw their faces.

My eyes widened in disbelief. “Dear Lord…”

It was them. Every single one. Lily, Sophie, Nate, Zane, Tera, Adam, Zoey, Jay — all standing right there.

“What are you kids doing here?” I asked sharply, my voice trembling with shock and anger.

The children froze, their faces turning guilty. Lily stepped forward quickly, clutching her bag strap.

“Grandma… we missed you and came to find you,” she said softly.

The others nodded and surrounded me like a small army. Their smiles were sweet, innocent — but I wasn’t fooled.

I sighed deeply. My anger melted a little at their cute faces, but I still frowned. “Still, why did you leave the school premises? Are your teachers aware?”

They all shook their heads.

I rubbed my temple, trying to steady my voice. “Now you have a dent in your school record. That’s a bad thing, my dears. You can’t just walk out of school!”

I noticed Jay speeding into company building and before I could chase after him, he had already entered.

"Why is Jay entering there?"

Sophie spoke first, her small voice calm but matter-of-fact. "To look for our father.”

My breath hitched. “Which father?” I asked, disbelief coloring my tone.

I knew Mannie hadn’t said a word about the father of her children — not even once. She had built her life around those kids alone.

“He works in this company,” Nate said, pointing toward the tall glass building behind them.

I almost dropped the bags in my hands. “You—!” I began, feeling heat rise in my chest. “

Zane answered quickly, his voice calm as if nothing was wrong. “Don’t worry, he’s safe.”

“Safe?” I hissed. “How can I not worry? You kids take things too lightly!”

They all looked down, guilt written across their faces. I bit my lip, torn between anger and fear.

Before I could decide what to do next, Tera tugged gently at my skirt. “Grandma, I smell pastries. Is it for us?” she asked, her eyes wide and hopeful.

I sighed again, shaking my head. “No, it belongs to my boss. Let me go and give her what she sent me for. Then I’ll take permission, and we’ll go get your brother Jay.”

Their faces lit up with relief, and they followed quietly behind me as I led them toward my workplace.

Inside Oli’s Stitches, Miss Oli looked up from a pile of fabrics. Her painted lips curled into a smile when she saw me walk in with the children.

“Mrs. Clara! You brought your grandkids this time around?” she said cheerfully, bending to pinch Sophie’s cheeks. “Such cute children!”

I forced a small smile, though my mind was far from calm. “Not really cute right now. These little ones nearly gave me a heart attack…”

I quickly explained everything — how they had left school, and how one of them had gone into the company building. My words came out in a rush. “Please, permit me to look for Jay.”

Miss Oli waved her hand kindly. “No problem, Clara. We don’t have much to do today. Even the other workers are on break. You’ve earned a little rest.”

I smiled weakly. “Thank you, ma.”

She nodded, and I gathered the children, leading them outside again. My heart was pounding faster than before.

As we walked, I checked to make sure they all had their backpacks. Thankfully, they were all there — even Jay’s small one was with Nate.

Just as I was thinking of what to do next, my phone rang. It was the home telephone.

I picked it up quickly, fear tightening my grip. “Hello?”

“Grandma, I’m at home,” Jay’s cheerful voice came through the line.

Relief flooded me. My heart finally slowed. “Alright. Stay there and don’t move,” I said firmly before hanging up.

Zane grinned. “See? I told you Jay is safe.”

I didn’t answer. I only nodded slightly, still shaken. “Let’s go home,” I said instead, waving down a passing cab.

The children climbed in quickly, their small bodies pressing against mine. I gave the driver our address, and we began the long ride back.

As we reached the familiar entrance of our community, the usual noise welcomed us — women gossiping near the well, men playing cards by the shop, and the smell of stew cooking somewhere nearby.

Before we could even take two steps, Mrs. Rosalind — the self-proclaimed queen of gossip, rushed toward us. Her eyes glimmered with curiosity.

“Someone came back with one of your grandsons,” she said immediately, her voice dripping with excitement. “And the driver came with a fine car. Is there something we should know?”

I stopped, holding back the irritation that rose in me. “That’s none of your business,” I said coldly and continued walking.

She clicked her tongue. “Tch… it’s just a question. It’s not like we don’t know your daughter is a whore.”

The words hit like a slap.

Before I could speak, Lily turned sharply, her little face red with anger. “My mom isn’t a whore!” she shouted, her voice trembling.

Mrs. Rosalind sneered and turned away, muttering something under her breath.

I clenched my fists but said nothing. Arguing with that woman was like wrestling smoke. Instead, I took Lily’s hand and pulled her gently. “Don’t mind her, my dear. Let’s go.”

We climbed the narrow stairs to our small apartment. My mind was still running wild. Who had brought Jay home? Who was this mysterious man?

When I opened the door, my breath caught in my throat.

There, sitting on our old brown sofa, was a man in a dark suit. His presence filled the tiny living room completely. The air around him felt… calm but commanding.

Jay sat beside him, smiling proudly.

For a second, I froze. My eyes darted around the room — thank heavens, it was clean. The curtains were straight, and the floor was swept. Still, the sudden appearance of such a man in our humble home made my heart race.

“Kids, go inside your room,” I said quietly.

They obeyed without question, though their eyes lingered curiously on the man before they disappeared behind the door.

I placed the bags on the small table and straightened my wrapper. My hands trembled slightly, but I forced a calm smile.

“Please, have some water,” I said, fetching the jug from the tray. I poured him a glass and added a small plate of nuts and fruit. “This is what we have.”

He nodded politely, accepting it. “Thank you.”

His voice was deep, steady — the kind that could silence a noisy room.

I sat down slowly, folding my hands on my lap. “So… may I know who you are?”

He placed the glass gently on the table. His eyes — sharp, serious — met mine.

“Yes. I am David Monroe,” he said softly. “I’m the father of the kids.”

The words hung in the air like thunder.

My breath hitched. My fingers froze where they rested. “You’re… their father?”

He nodded. “Yes. I’m really sorry I couldn’t be there during the birth process or the children’s life. I had an accident years ago and lost my memory. I only started remembering things last month.”

I stared at him, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or faint. His tone was calm, almost gentle, but every word felt like a stone thrown into still water — ripples spreading endlessly.

He continued quietly, his expression earnest. “I’ve been searching for them since my memories returned. Seeing Jay today felt like fate.”

I blinked, trying to take it all in. “Then… what do you do now, Mr. David?”

“I’m the CEO of the David’s Group.”

The words made my eyes widen. My heart skipped. “You… you’re the owner of David’s Group?”

He nodded once.

A wide smile broke across my face. “Good, good, good!” I said the word three times before I could stop myself. My heart was bubbling with joy. My grandchildren’s father was a man of power and worth. Maybe fate hadn’t abandoned us after all.?