Chapter 2: Birthday Candles and Lies.

Steam clung to Xavier’s skin as he stepped out of the bathroom, a towel slung over his shoulders. He ran a hand through his damp hair, eyes sweeping the room.

Lilith had mistakenly spilled wine on him so he had to go clean up.

“Lilith,” he asked, his voice deep but casual, “did my phone ring while I was in there?”

Perched on the edge of the sofa, Lilith looked up with an angelic smile, the kind that always seemed carefully crafted to disarm. Her hair spilled over her shoulders in perfect waves and her dress clung softly against her frame as if she were the very picture of serenity.

“No,” she said smoothly, shaking her head. “No calls.”

Xavier frowned lightly, crossing to pick up his phone, he could have sworn he heard it ring. True enough, there was nothing. No missed calls. No messages. Nothing.

Unknown to him, she had clear the call history including the text she sent to Aurora.

He sighed, pushing away the faint tug in his chest. He thought by now Aurora would be blowing up his phones with calls but surprisingly there was nothing.

“I should get going,” he muttered, already reaching for his watch. “It’s Elara’s birthday today too. I promised her—”

“Xavier.” Lilith’s voice was soft, almost mournful. She set her glass down and rose gracefully to her feet. “You’re already stretched so thin. Aurora and Elara are lucky to have you. You give them everything, comfort, security, a beautiful life.” She laid a hand lightly on his arm, eyes shimmering with carefully veiled hurt. “But what about Jaxon? He’s never had anyone. Today is the only day he gets to feel special.”

Before Xavier could respond, a small, timid voice broke the moment.

“Mr. Steele?” Jaxon stood in the hallway, clutching the hem of his pajama top. The boy’s eyes lifted hopefully. “Can you… tuck me in tonight?”

Xavier hesitated. For a fleeting second, Elara’s face flashed before his eyes, her pout, her determined little voice declaring she wouldn’t blow out her candles until he came home. Guilt twisted in his chest.

But then Jaxon smiled faintly, waiting. And Xavier felt his resistance crumble. Since the day he met the boy who looked exactly like him, he’d never been able to say no to him.

“Of course,” he said gently, forcing away the thought of Elara’s hopeful eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.”

As he tucked Jaxon in, the boy whispered, “I wish you were my dad.”

The words sank into Xavier’s heart like a stone. He brushed Jaxon’s hair back, silent for a long moment before murmuring, “Get some sleep.”

By the time Xavier finally left Lilith’s apartment, the city was already waking. He slipped into his own home just as dawn painted the sky pale.

The sound of light laughter floated through the quiet house, pulling Aurora from a shallow, uneasy sleep. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it, dreamt of the very thing her heart craved. But then it came again, soft giggles tumbling over the deeper rumble of a man’s voice.

Aurora’s eyes snapped open. She lay still as the sound sank into her chest, tearing at something raw. Slowly, she pushed the covers back and slipped out of bed, bare feet brushing against the cold floor.

The house was dim, touched only by the pale gray of dawn pressing against the windows, but downstairs… downstairs there was warmth.

She moved quietly and the closer she came, the clearer the voices grew.

“You really thought I forgot?” Xavier’s deep voice was teasing, edged with amusement.

A child’s giggle followed, airy and certain. “I knew you didn’t, Daddy. I told Mommy you wouldn’t break your promise.”

Aurora froze on the last step. Her throat tightened as her gaze fell on the scene unfolding in the kitchen.

Xavier was seated at the table, his posture relaxed in a way it rarely was around her. His suit jacket hung carelessly over the back of his chair, his dark hair slightly damp, as though he’d only just come home.

Across from him sat Elara, perched on the counter with her legs swinging back and forth, her gray eyes, the mirror of his, lit with adoration.

For Elara, nothing else in the world existed in that moment but her father.

“Of course I didn’t forget,” Xavier said, brushing a stray strand of her fine hair back. “Work just ran a little late, and when I got home, you were fast asleep.”

Elara’s lips puckered into a small pout. “You should’ve woken me.”

“And wake my princess from her beauty sleep?” He reached forward and tapped her nose. She squealed, breaking into delighted laughter. “Never.”

Aurora’s chest constricted. He was lying so easily, so smoothly. Covering absence with a story their daughter was desperate to believe. And Elara believed him. Every word melted into her innocent heart, concealing away last night’s disappointment as if it had never existed.

“You’re the most understanding seven-year-old I’ve ever met.” Xavier added, his voice unusually soft.

Elara glowed under the praise, her face lighting with pride. “I knew it. You’d never forget me.”

The guilt hit Xavier again.

Aurora stood in the shadows, her hands trembling at her sides. Part of her wanted to step forward, to demand he stop filling their daughter with false promises. But another part, the mother in her, couldn’t bear to strip away that joy. Not when Elara had gone to bed in tears just hours ago.

“Shall we blow out your candles now?” Xavier asked, lifting the dome covering the cake.

Elara gasped in excitement, then faltered. Her face dropped for the briefest moment when she saw the cake before she quickly forced a smile.

“What, you don't like it? I specially picked it out.”Xavier told her.

“I love it.” She said, her voice pitched too high.

Xavier studied her, suspicion flickering, but when she clasped her hands and closed her eyes, whispering a wish before blowing out the candles, he smiled as though nothing was amiss.

Her small hands clapped together in delight as the flames vanished, and Xavier’s face softened with something that looked like pride, and something else. Guilt, buried but there.

That was when Aurora finally stepped into the light.

“Morning.” She said quietly.

Xavier turned, his expression tensing for a moment before he smoothed it over. “Good morning.”

Aurora’s gaze was steady, though her heart was hammering. “Where were you last night? I called.”

His jaw tightened. He rose from his chair, walking over with deliberate calm. “Aurora…” He reached for her arm and guided her a little aside, lowering his voice. “Can we not do this in front of her?”

She stared at him, a bitter laugh caught in her throat. “Oh, so now you remember she’s your daughter? And yet, you didn’t show up yesterday. You chose to spend Jaxon’s birthday with him instead. Do you even realize what that did to her?” Her voice cracked, trembling with suppressed fury. “You promised her, Xavier.”

His steel-gray eyes hardened, flashing with irritation. “Aurora—”The sound of a sharp cough cut through his words.

Both their heads whipped toward Elara.

At first, it was small, muffled, but it grew quickly, her tiny shoulders jerking as she coughed, her face flushing a deep red. Her hands clawed weakly at her throat.

“Elara?” Aurora’s voice broke as she rushed forward. Her heart slammed against her ribs, panic crashing into her like a wave.

Elara’s coughs grew harsher, wheezing now. Her wide eyes brimmed with tears.

Aurora’s gaze darted wildly until it landed on the plate before her daughter. Her breath hitched.

Mango.

“Oh God.” She dropped to her knees beside Elara, voice trembling. “Elara, baby, why are you eating that?”

Xavier moved closer, his brows furrowed. “Aurora, please, not this again. It’s just a cake—”

Elara gasped, forcing out words between coughs. “Daddy… got it for me… so I had to eat it…”

Xavier blinked, confusion written across his face. “What is this drama about?”

Aurora spun on him, fury blazing through the tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s allergic to mangoes, Xavier! How could you not know that your own daughter is allergic to mangoes?”

Her voice rose, breaking with anguish as Elara wheezed, her small frame trembling. Aurora clutched her daughter’s back, fear tightening every muscle in her body.

And for the first time that morning, Xavier’s mask slipped.

The color drained from his face as he stared at Elara, his daughter, choking before his eyes.