Chapter 105

Lila’s POV

The house was quiet that afternoon. Too quiet.

I sat curled in the armchair by the living room window, a book lying open but forgotten in my lap. The words on the page blurred together; my eyes weren’t really reading, they were simply drifting along the neat lines while my mind wandered elsewhere.

My parents had both gone out together to work and after the overwhelming feeling that came from my previous day at the shop I decided to take a break and rest. The stillness their absence left behind pressed heavily against the walls and I was alone in this house.

The silence wasn’t threatening the way it might have been in New York, where loneliness echoed differently, sharper, and carried memories I didn’t want. Here, it was gentler, familiar, but still unfamiliar enough that I couldn’t relax completely.

I leaned back, staring at the faint outlines on the walls where our family photos frame hung and I pressed my hand lightly against my stomach. The bump was small but growing steadily, a constant reminder of everything that was changing. I wondered, not for the first time, what kind of mother I would be. I had no reference point besides my own mother, steady, patient, patient and endlessly giving. Could I ever measure up to that?

The sudden knock at the door startled me.

I sat upright, my heart skipping as I glanced toward the entrance. No one usually came around without calling first, at least not since I had been back. The knock came again, firmer this time but not unkind.

I rose quickly, adjusting my cardigan as I crossed the room, and pulled the door open.

“Daniel?” I blinked, surprised.

He stood on the porch, tall as ever, his broad shoulders carrying the weight of something he tried to mask with a polite smile. Beside him, holding tightly onto his hand, was Ethan. The little boy’s curls gleamed in the fading light, and his eyes, wide and curious, immediately darted past me into the house as though wondering what secrets it held.

“Hi, Lila,” Daniel said, his voice carrying a touch of hesitation. “I’m sorry to drop by unannounced. I…well, I need a favor.”

My brows furrowed slightly, but I stepped aside so they could at least come into the porch’s warmth. “What is it?”

He shifted, glancing down at Ethan before meeting my eyes again. “I have to head out of town for some work. Just for the day. Normally, I would leave Ethan with your parents, they’ve been kind enough to help me out whenever I have needed it. But since they are at the shop…” He trailed off, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “I was hoping you could…watch him. Just for a few hours until I get back.”

I blinked. The request landed heavier than I expected.

Me? Watch Ethan?

I wasn’t sure I was qualified. I had never looked after a child in my life. I always kept my distance from babies, toddlers, even school age kids because I was unsure on how to interact with them. And yet here was Daniel, standing in front of me with trust in his eyes, asking me to step into a role I wasn’t sure I could fill.

Ethan peered up at me then, his small toy car clutched tightly in one hand. He didn’t say anything, just stared with a quiet curiosity that felt older than his years. Something in his gaze softened the knot of hesitation inside me.

“Of course,” I said before I could talk myself out of it. “I will look after him.”

Relief washed across Daniel’s features. He crouched down, speaking gently to his son. “Ethan, you will stay here with Miss Lila until I get back. Be on your best behavior, okay?”

Ethan nodded solemnly, though his hand clung tighter to his father’s.

Daniel straightened, handing me a small backpack. “His bag has snacks, a change of clothes, some toys. He shouldn’t need much, though I made sure he ate well before we came.” His eyes searched mine briefly, as if making sure I truly meant my yes. “Thank you, Lila. Really. I owe you one.”

I shook my head quickly. “You don’t owe me anything. I will be fine and I will make sure he is fine too.”

He gave me a grateful smile, then ruffled Ethan’s hair one last time. “I will be back as soon as I can.”

And with that, he was gone.

The door closed softly behind him, leaving me alone with a small boy who stood in the middle of my parents’ living room, looking around with the solemn curiosity of someone entering a new world.

I set his bag down near the couch and cleared my throat. “So… what would you like to do?”

He tilted his head, his toy car rolling back and forth between his palms. “I don’t know.”

I laughed nervously. “Me neither.”

For a moment, we just regarded each other, me, uncertain of how to bridge the gap, and him, observing me with that unflinching stare only children seemed to have. Then he broke the silence.

“You look like Grandma Maggie.”

I blinked, startled and then laughed softly. “Well, that makes sense. She’s my mom.”

His eyes widened slightly in realization, and then he smiled. “Oh. That’s why.”

The innocence in his voice tugged at something deep inside me. Before I could say more, his smile faltered. He lowered his eyes to the toy car, rolling it across his knee. “I wish I had a mom.”

The words sliced through the quiet, raw and unfiltered.

My breath caught.

“My dad says my mom is in heaven,” Ethan continued, his little voice steady but soft. “He says she watches over me from there. But I wish she was here instead so Dad would not have to always leave me with someone else.”

I pressed a hand to my chest, my heart aching for him. Such honesty, spoken without the filters adults used, left me scrambling for the right response.

I knelt down until I was eye level with him, my cardigan brushing against the floor. “Ethan,” I said gently, “you may not see her, but your mom still loves you, even from heaven. And you are not alone. You have your dad, who loves you very much. And you have Grandma Maggie too.”

He lifted his head, his eyes glistening just slightly in the golden afternoon light. “Do you love me too?”

The question caught me completely off guard. My throat tightened as I stared at him, this little boy with so much weight already pressing on his young shoulders. And without thinking, without hesitation, I smiled.

“Yes, Ethan,” I whispered. “I love you too.”

His grin returned, brighter this time, and something inside me cracked open. Loving him was so easy. Easier than I had thought possible.

The rest of the afternoon unfolded gently. We played with his toy car, racing it along the arm of the couch, pretending the cushions were mountains and the rug was a racetrack. He laughed freely, the kind of laughter that filled the room with life.

At one point, he curled up against me to flip through a picture book from his bag, pointing out shapes and colors with pride. I listened, nodding my head and my heart melting at every small detail.

As the sun dipped lower, Ethan’s energy began to fade. He lay down on the couch, his toy car still clutched in one hand, his eyelids drooping. Within minutes, he was asleep, his small breaths evening out, his chest rising and falling with the rhythm of dreams.

I sat nearby, watching him in the fading light. My hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach. Soon, I would have a child of my own to care for, to love and to protect. The thought terrified me, but as I looked at Ethan’s peaceful face, I realized maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe love, even with all its risks, came as naturally as breathing.

The house was hushed again, but it didn’t feel empty. It felt full of presence, of hope, of something new stirring quietly within me.

The sound of a slight knock and front door opening at almost the same time pulled me from my thoughts.

Daniel stepped inside, the faint weariness of the day etched into his features. His eyes immediately sought the couch, softening when he saw Ethan fast asleep.