Chapter 2: It all Started with a Baby

The Soul Tie

The hospital air tasted like bleach and hell.

Every time I tried to expand my lungs, my shattered ribs sparked a white-hot fire. My back was a mess of bandages and burnt skin, but the physical agony was a dull hum compared to the panic in my chest.

Is Mia safe?

That was the only thought that mattered. I squeezed my eyes shut, and the heavy fog of the pain medication dragged me back to the one day I had spent twenty years trying to bury.

October 16, 1996

I was ten years old, sitting on a hard plastic chair in a hallway, I remember not being sick but felt a huge lump in my throat and dread wash over me like adrenaline, it was as if the universe was trying to tell me that something significant will soon take place right there. Even though I didn’t understand at the time, I knew I felt weird.

My grandmother was in surgery after a fall, and in all the confusion, the adults had completely forgotten about me.

Hospitals feel endless when you’re a child. Every corridor looks the same, every turn feels like it leads somewhere you’re not supposed to be. I started wandering, my sneakers squeaking against the shiny tiles, not really sure where I was going.

Then I heard it, a sharp, gut-wrenching cry that stopped me dead in my tracks.

It wasn't just a cry; it was a soul-shattering scream coming from a room down the hall. It made the hair on my arms stand up. I followed the sound, my heart thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird.

A woman was giving birth.

Her voice raw and sharp still rings in my head till date.

Then I heard the sweetest sound I have ever heard in my entire life.

A baby's cry.

Sharp and sweet. I may not know them, but I swear to God that baby's voice gladdens my heart in a way I have never felt in all the ten years of my existence.

Then I saw a man, Carlos, leaning against the wall. He looked like he’d been struck by lightening. A nurse stood in front of him, her head bowed, her voice a mere shadow.

“Congratulations, Mr. Carlos,” the nurse said, her voice shaky. “It’s a girl.”

Carlos lunged forward, eyes wild with desperate hope. “Can I see her? Is Emily okay? Let me see my wife!”

The nurse froze. Her silence hit harder than any words.

“I’m sorry, Carlos… Emily didn’t make it.”

The scream that tore out of him didn’t sound human. He collapsed against the nurse, clawing at her scrubs. “No! This is a joke, right? It has to be a joke! Take the baby, I don’t want her! Just give me back my Emily!”

"God don't do this to me. She only wanted to bring a child to life. Why take her life instead. God why? Knowing how much I love her. What child murders his own mother? Why?" He wailed and totally lost himself.

I watched from the shadows, heart slamming against my ribs. That was the day I saw what love could do to a man when it shattered.

Later, under a sky bleeding rain and lightning, I pressed my face to the window and watched him hug his wife's cold body to his chest in the dark, crying profusely like a child.

Later, he walked to the nursery and just stood at the entrance like a ghost, staring at the tiny bundle in the nursery from a distance, his eyes completely dead.

“Mr. Carlos? Your baby?” a nurse asked softly as he turned to leave.

“Keep her,” he rasped, his voice hollow. “I don’t want her.”

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t quite get that,” the nurse said, bewildered.

But almost immediately, chaos exploded at the hospital's entrance, an accident had happened nearby sending gurneys crashing and doctors shouting through the halls. Nurses vanished into the frenzy.

Carlos melted into the pouring rain like a shadow.

In the middle of the storm, the nursery was completely forgotten.

And the baby... alone.

And as if sensing abandonment, she began to cry. It wasn't the loud, demanding cry of a hungry baby. It was a lonely, panicked sound echoing off the cold linoleum floors.

But no one could hear her, not with all that noise.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I took one step. Then another. My legs felt like they were moving through deep water. I reached the side of the cot and looked down.

I expected to see something that justified the father's hatred. A monster that had killed its mother.

Instead, I found a miracle.

She was tiny, her skin the color of a crushed rose petal. When she opened her eyes, oh God, I marveled at the beauty, the baby's got this rare, deep oceanic blue eyes, it was so charming that I couldn't find the right word to describe it.

I stared at her in awe, and then she suddenly noticed me, and the frantic wailing stopped instantly. And I immediately got captivated.

I couldn't believe there could be a thing so beautiful. I just stare at her bewildered.

Then she did something that nearly stopped my heart.

She smiled.

A tiny, hiccuping curve of her lips, pure, trusting, and so damn enchanting it hurt.

I reached out a trembling hand. Her small fingers smaller than a penny, brushed against mine. And something shocking happened immediately, the moment our skin touched, I felt a strange powerful current shot through me, the spark that traveled up my arm was terrifying.

It was like a soul-tie I wasn't old enough to understand, but too far gone to break.

I pulled back my hands immediately, suddenly became scared. And I honestly felt like running away, but it was as if my feet was glued to the ground. It was like a feeling mix of awe and something I still can’t name.

Outside, my father’s car honked, loud, impatient.

I took a step back, intending to run. I made it to the door, my heart screaming LEAVE, leavee!

But I couldn't bring myself to move another inch. I looked back at that lonely crib in the middle of a chaotic world that didn't want her.

A fierce, protective clarity washed over me.

No one was looking. No one cared.

Then suddenly, as if being possessed by an inexplicable force, something I couldn’t explain then and still can’t now, I walked back to that pink bassinet, damned all consequences and scooped up the warm, milk-scented bundle, and tucked her deep inside my oversized denim jacket. I zipped it up until I could feel her heartbeat thumping directly against mine.

“Don’t cry,” I whispered into the fuzz of her hair. “I’ve got you.”

The hospital was a madhouse of sirens and shouting. Yet, no one noticed a ten-year-old boy slipping out into the rain, carrying a secret that would define the rest of his life.

Back inside the hospital ward, a nurse finally broke away from the chaos of the emergency intake. She hurried to the nursery, breathing hard, and froze when she reached the empty cot.

The white sheets stared back at her, smooth and untouched.

Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with panic, then, just as fast, the tension melted from her shoulders.

“Oh, thank God,” she whispered to the empty room.

She glanced toward the exit where Carlos had vanished into the rain minutes earlier. In her mind, it all made sense.

The grieving father had come back and taken his daughter after all.

“I knew you couldn’t leave her,” she murmured, a small, sad smile touching her lips. “She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen. Those blue eyes. No one could walk away from that.”

She straightened the blanket on the empty mattress, convinced the tragedy had somehow fixed itself. With one last relieved nod, she turned and rushed back into the storm of crises, never once imagining that a ten-year-old boy had just carried the miracle away into the night.

I walked out of that hospital as a thief, but for the first time in my life, I felt like a hero.

My father didn’t even glance up from his phone when I climbed into the back seat. He was too busy being Charles Mayer, billionaire, control freak, and apparently blind to the fact that his only son had just stolen a life.

He slammed his door shut, face twisted with frustration as he barked into the phone about some missed board meeting. He never once looked at me.

I just sat there in the back, the tiny baby pressed warm and silent against my racing heart.

She didn’t make a sound the whole ride. It was like she already knew we were fugitives.

We pulled up to our ancestral mansion, the massive, ancient place that always felt more like a tomb than a home. I didn’t wait for my father to finish his call. The second the car stopped, I bolted inside, heart hammering, heading straight for the only person I could trust.

“Nana! Nana, you have to help me!” I burst into Mrs. Nancy’s room, tears finally spilling hot down my cheeks as I unzipped my jacket.

The old maid gasped, her eyes nearly popping out of her head when a tiny face with wide blue eyes peeked out from my shirt.

"He didn't want her, Nanna," I choked out, clutching the baby closer. "He called her a murderer. Please... I want to keep her. You have to help me nana Nancy. Please." I choked down on my words and cried like I've never cried my whole life.

“Oh my God, Maurice, whose child is this?” Mrs. Nancy’s eyes went wide as the tiny blue-eyed baby peeked out from my jacket.

“I don’t know,” I sobbed, the words tumbling over each other. “Her father said he didn’t want her. Her mom died giving birth and he blamed the baby. He said she killed his wife. Nana… I want her. Please, I want to keep her. Help me.”

Words hung in Nana Nancy's mouth as she stared at me like a ghost, dumbfounded.