Chapter 3: She Became my Everything

That night, the dinner table felt like a minefield. My father was focused on his plate, talking about hospital bills and recovery times.

Then, a soft, high-pitched whimper floated down from the stairs.

My father’s fork hit the plate with a sharp clink. He looked up, his brow furrowed. “Is that a baby crying? Whose child is that?”

My heart stopped. My palms went slick with sweat. I looked at Mrs. Nancy, then back at my father, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the earthquake happening inside me.

“It’s Mrs. Nancy’s niece’s baby,” I said quickly. “She dropped her off earlier. She’s leaving the country for studies.”

“Oh,” Dad replied, completely uninterested.

“That’s good. A baby around the house will liven things up for Grandma. She loves babies.” He even smiled a little.

I forced an awkward smile back and buried my face in my bowl, avoiding Mrs. Nancy’s sharp, questioning stare.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. The lie was told. The path was set. She wasn't just a baby anymore, she was my life's greatest secret.

The following morning, Mrs. Nancy went to the hospital to fetch Grandma, quietly listening for any whispers of a missing newborn. Silence. There was no report whatsoever or a case of a missing baby.

To the rest of the world, she was a ghost. But to me, she became my sun.

The moment Grandma stepped through the door, the house changed. When she saw the bundle in the crib, her weary eyes sparkled. "An angel," she whispered, her trembling fingers reaching for those tiny, velvet cheeks.

She was smitten, but I was obsessed.

I became her shadow. I carried her until my arms ached, a fierce, primal pride burning in my gut. I had pulled her from the wreckage, and I wasn't letting go. Grandma and I even had "wars" over who got to hold her.

"She is mine," I’d snap, gently but firmly tucking her back into my chest.

Grandma would just laugh, a sound that hadn't echoed in this house for years. Even Mrs. Nancy, trapped by the weight of our secret, couldn’t bring herself to break the spell or spill the bin. The baby wasn't just a guest; she was the light we didn't know we were missing.

One afternoon, Grandma looked up from the cradle and said softly, “She’s so beautiful. What’s her name?”

Mrs. Nancy glanced at me for help. I didn’t hesitate.

“Her name is Mia,” I said firmly.

“Mia… what a lovely name,” Grandma smiled. “What does it mean?”

“It means she’s mine!”

I replied, my voice far too serious for a ten-year-old. "She’s mine. Always."

But the bubble burst the day we had to return to the city.

"I’m taking her with me," I announced, already reaching for her diaper bag.

Mrs. Nancy caught my arm, pulling me into the hallway. Her face was set in a hard line of worry. "Maurice, stop. You can't. Your parents are always working, they'll notice a baby in five minutes. Do you want her ended up in an orphanage?"

The word orphanage hit me like a physical blow. My throat went dry.

"But Nana... I can’t breathe if I’m not near her. I won't know if she's okay."

"I raised you, didn't I?" she whispered, softening as she saw the tears welling in my eyes. "I will protect her here. Grandma loves her. She’ll be safe in this house, hidden away from the city's eyes. You’ll see her every holiday. I promise."

My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest with a pair of dull scissors. I looked at the little girl sleeping peacefully, unaware that her protector was about to vanish.

"I love her, Nana," I whispered, my voice breaking.

"Then save her. Leave her here where she can grow up safe."

I nodded, the weight of the sacrifice crushing me. I left that house without her, but as the car pulled away, I felt a physical tug in my chest, like a golden, unbreakable thread stretching across the miles.

I was going back to my old life, but I was leaving my soul behind in a cradle.

Back in the city, I became a ghost in my own home. My parents were titans of industry, chasing deals that left them no time for a son, let alone a secret. I grew up in the silence of a hollow mansion, raised by staff and cold bank transfers.

But I wasn't alone. I had a lifeline.

Every night, I’d press the phone to my ear just to hear Mia’s soft gurgles. My parents gave me expensive gifts to bury their guilt; I hid them all in the back of my closet, hoarding treasures for a girl they didn't know existed.

One evening, the line crackled with Mia’s frantic, gasping sobs.

“I’ve tried everything, Maurice. Rocking her, singing, changing her diapers. Nothing works. She just won’t stop crying.”

I frowned and felt unsettled, without much thinking, “Put the phone to her ear.” I said firmly.

There was a pause, some rustling, then silence.

I softened my voice, pouring every bit of love I had into it.

“Hey, my crying angel… it’s okay. Shhh. Don’t cry anymore, my love. I’ve got you.”

And just like that… the sobbing stopped.

Instantly.

As if she had been waiting for my voice the whole time.

Then came the softest gurgles and coos, followed by a quiet little “Mmm-ah?” that sounded less like baby talk and more like she was asking me something only I could hear.

I smiled, but something tugged at me deep inside.

“Nana,” I said suddenly, “have you tried giving her water?”

Nana went quiet for a second, then gasped. “Water? Oh my goodness… I completely forgot!”

I heard her rushing around, the sound of a cup filling, then gentle slurping as Mia drank like she’d been dying of thirst.

After which, she let out a tiny, contented sigh, snuggled deeper into her blanket, and drifted off to sleep.

The house fell peaceful again.

Nana’s voice came back on the line, stunned. “Maurice… how did you know she was thirsty?”

I paused, searching for the right words.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “When she made that sound… it felt like she was speaking straight into my bones. Like she was telling me, in her own way.”

That connection became my oxygen.

When my parents confiscated my phone to force me to study, I felt like I was drowning. I failed my exams, the "genius" son finally broke. Desperate, they made a deal: smash the make-up tests, and I could visit the villa.

I didn't just pass; I set records. My parents beamed, thinking I was a devoted grandson. They had no idea I was a boy possessed by a single purpose.

The reunion was a blur of adrenaline. When I stepped into the villa, Mia, now a toddler, looked up. Her face didn't just brighten; it ignited. She lunged for me, her tiny fingers curling into my shirt as if she never intended to let go. For the first time in months, the ache in my chest vanished. I was home.

For years, this was our rhythm. I saved every penny for her birthdays, watching her grow from a miracle in a denim jacket to a vibrant five-year-old.

Then, the world tilted.

Shortly before her fifth birthday, Grandma passed away. My parents, fearing another academic collapse, chose a mercy that felt like a betrayal: they didn't tell me. They buried her in secret. They sold the villa to fund their next expansion. They fired Nana Nancy and the staff, scattering the only family I actually cared about.

Now, as Mia’s sixth birthday looms, the silence from the villa is deafening. I’m fifteen now, and the "golden thread" is vibrating with a warning I can't ignore.

"I need a loan," I told my father that evening, my voice steady despite the sweat slicking my palms. "It's for a gift. For... Nana Nancy's niece."

The silence that followed was cold. My parents exchanged a look that made my blood turn to ice.

"Maurice," my father said softly. "Grandma passed away months ago. We didn't want to break your focus before exams."

The world tilted. Shock and grief clawed at my throat, but a sharper panic overrode it.

"And Nana Nancy?" I choked out. "Where is she? And the baby?"

They shrugged it off. They told me her son, a military intelligence officer named Luke Rivers, had come for her. They had no idea where she’d gone after that.

The news hit me like a storm. I exploded into a frenzy. I refused to explain why it mattered so much. I just kept insisting I had to find her, no matter what.

My parents tried everything to calm me down. “We don’t know where she is, son. Let it go.” But I couldn’t. I pulled at my hair, stopped eating, and spent every bit of money I had searching for any trace of her. I became a hollow version of myself, walking around like a ghost.

Seeing me waste away, my parents finally stepped in. They poured their own resources into the search. Still, nothing. Nana Nancy had vanished.

For over three years, I lived in a fog. Laughing felt wrong. I shut everyone out. Every day felt empty, like a huge part of me had been ripped away and I didn’t know how to breathe without it.

Then, after all that relentless searching, it was like the universe finally took pity on me.

We found her.

Nana Nancy was living miles away in a quiet town. I didn’t waste a second. I went straight there.

The moment I arrived, my heart nearly stopped. There was Mia, taller now, even more beautiful, but I would have known her anywhere. Those striking blue eyes hadn’t changed.

Overwhelmed with joy, I started walking toward her.

She turned around.

Our eyes locked.

She was wearing a simple white dress, her hair pulled into a neat ponytail with a little strawberry clip, and pink shoes that made her look like a living doll. She must have been about eight now, tall for her age, radiating pure innocence and charm, but it was those oceanic blue eyes that confirmed it. My Mia.

The three-year ache in my chest began to dissolve. I stepped forward, my voice catching in my throat, ready to tell her I was back. Ready to tell her I’d never leave again.

Then, a boy, roughly my age, approached her. Mia didn't hesitate. She reached out and gripped his hand tight.

“Tom, can you please take me away?” she said, frowning.

"Didn't you request a stroll in the garden? Why do you want to leave now?" Tom asked in a doting voice.

“Because, there, I don’t like how that boy is looking at me.”

Tom scanned the area. “Which boy?”

Mia raised a trembling finger. She pointed it directly at me. Our eyes locked, but there was no spark of recognition. No warmth. Only a cold, stinging fear.

“That boy,” she said, her voice filled with a stranger's dislike. “I don’t like him."

"..."