4

MIA’S POV

PRESENT HOURS

I walked quietly to my bag on the floor, pulled out my phone, and set the bag back down. As I moved toward the bathroom, a text from Mary lit up the screen. I stripped off my panties, raised my dress, and sat on the toilet, reading the message.

“Mia, hey. How are you? Did he help you out? I haven’t heard from you. Is he helping you get your job back?”

My chest tightened. Axel hadn’t called since I left his place. My heart ached at the thought of him. What kind of boyfriend disappears like this? Had he ever really meant it when he said he loved me?

I shook my head and typed a quick reply to Mary before shutting off my phone. Finishing up, I flushed, tossed my dress aside, and hopped into the shower.

Minutes later, wrapped in a towel, I glanced at my new little friend asleep on the bed. Carefully, I dried off, dressed in my old red nightgown and fresh panties, and climbed quietly onto the single bed.

I lay next to him without touching him, reaching for his hair to brush my fingers through it. He stirred, turning his sleeping face toward me. I withdrew my hand, watching his tiny lips part in soft snores. I smiled at how ridiculously adorable he was.

I let myself relax, closing my eyes, surrendering to sleep.

⸻

NEXT MORNING…

Tiny hands flailed at my face, rousing me. Sunlight pierced my eyes.

“Okay, okay, I’m up!” I laughed, holding his little hands—lost in the oversized sleeves of his cardigan. His bright blue eyes locked onto mine as he babbled happily.

“You are the biggest morning person ever,” I teased, tugging gently at the cardigan.

“No, no, no,” I held his hand. “Don’t pull my hair.”

He pouted but complied, and I knelt by the bed.

“Don’t pull my hair, and I won’t pinch your cheeks. Deal?” I dimmed my eyes at him. He tried to mirror me, forming a shy little smile.

“Aww, you smiled!” I laughed, letting him wave his hands excitedly.

“Too bad we’re going to the police station today,” I said. He grabbed his cardigan, trying to put it in his mouth. I chuckled, prying it away gently. “No, buddy, it’s not food. Let’s get some breakfast first.”

His cry escalated until I picked him up, spinning and twirling, making him giggle and quiet down.

“There you go! Breakfast, bath, clothes, then the station. Ready?” I asked as we headed to the kitchen.

Time flew. I finished preparing his meal, got him dressed in a tiny onesie and my old socks from childhood—oversized, but better than nothing—and placed him on the bed. He fiddled with the socks, eyes wide and curious.

“You look great, buddy,” I said, adjusting the socks and pinching his cheek gently. He grinned, captivated by me.

My phone beeped. Axel. I froze, holding my breath. His voice text played:

“Hey, Mia. I spoke to my mom about your job… I’m sorry. She insists you stay out. We should… give ourselves space. My mom… she hates the idea of her only child dating a cleaner. Stay home. I’ll send funds until you find another job. Bye, Mia.”

My chest tightened. Tears stung as I stared at his picture. This wasn’t real… it wasn’t love.

Tiny hands gripped my wrist. I looked down at my little buddy, his big blue eyes searching mine as if he understood everything. I sniffled, wiping my tears, and held him close.

“Come on, buddy. Let’s get you to the station,” I said softly, lifting him into my arms. He grabbed a handful of my hair. I chuckled, shaking my head, and put my phone away.

⸻

A FEW MINUTES LATER

The bus dropped us at the town station. I held the little buddy close, watching him play with my hair. People walked by lazily; the building seemed almost empty.

Inside, a female officer with red hair in a bun barely glanced at us.

“I came to report a missing baby I found,” I said, holding him up.

“What baby?” she snapped, eyes returning to her phone.

“This one,” I gestured.

She scoffed, clearly skeptical. “Are you just dropping him off to run?”

I furrowed my brows. “No! I found him in a trash can.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh… interracial baby, right? You hate the father because he dumped you?”

I blinked, incredulous. “This is not my baby.”

She shoved a form and pen toward me. “Write your statement. Come back tomorrow.”

I sighed, plopped him on my lap, and detailed everything. Finished, I handed the paper back. She barely looked up.

“Tomorrow,” she repeated.

I shook my head, holding him close. One more night together, I thought. Tomorrow, the station.

On the bus back, he straddled me, fiddling with my hair. “We’re going home,” I whispered. “But tonight… you’re all mine.”

"I should name you, right? I mean the day is still young. We have the entire day to spend together. I will call you um.......Jay Jay. You look like a Jay Jay, don't you?"

He made baby talk.

I smiled. "You like that right?"

I raised him a bit, smiling at him.

"You like? Jay Jay?"

He laughed, and I chuckled too—his little world offering a brief escape from mine.

At that moment, a scream outside drew my gaze. Cars parked, black men beating people in the street.

I held Jay Jay tighter. My brows furrowed.

“What the…?”

Who were they? Why were they beating those people?