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Stranger! Please be my Child’s Father

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Chapter 4: hide no more

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“Where’s Dada, Momma? I thought you said that we could talk later? I wanna ask him about everything!” Hudson chattered, swinging their joined hands together.

It was the happiest she had seen her son in a while--the little boy was filled with her usual youthful excitement. 

 

Arabella sighed, wondering what she did to get into such a mess of things. She couldn’t help but shoot a wary look over her shoulder before tugging her little one to a stop, kneeling down to face him. 

 

“Let’s have a little talk, okay?” Arabella murmured gently, not quite wanting to scare her son, but knowing damn well that there was a discussion to be had.

Maybe the way home wasn’t exactly the best decision, but Arabella knew that her curious boy would continue asking until he had the opportunity to get the answer or someone gave it to him. 

 

“First things first, Hudson, we talked about this this morning. You cannot use your hands to solve an issue, okay? You shouldn’t push, shouldn’t pull, or anything of the sort.” Arabella reminded, gently. “I know I told you so why did you forget?.”

 

“Momma, I-I know.” Hudson’s face became downturned, so sullen, and Arabella hated, hated seeing her son so sad. Often times, she wondered if she was being too strict.

But if she didn’t instill it in her son that physical contact was never a way to solve an issue, then she wasn’t doing her job as a parent.

 

But she knew when to relent and when to pull back. Arabella sank down, gently running a hand through her son’s dark curls, pressing a soothing smile to her lips. “I know, baby bear. It must have been frustrating with that other boy, huh?”

 

Hudson nodded, still glancing down. 

 

“And that’s what happens sometimes, bear. Sometimes, people are frustrating. We won’t agree with them.” Arabella murmured, thinking how she had just been in the same situation with that meddling singer, “Sometimes, people just don’t get along. And that’s okay. But the solution is not to raise your hand, okay? We talk it out, or we let it be. If we use our hands, we’re sinking down to their level. And we don’t want that, do we?”

 

Hudson shook his head vehemently. “No, momma! We’re on our own level.” 

 

“That’s right, baby bear! What are we?” Arabella extended her fist out, met with her son’s smaller one. 

 

“A team.” Came the answering reply. Arabella planted a kiss on her little bear’s forehead before standing up, taking the smaller hand in hers. “Come on, baby bear. Let’s go home. I’m hungry.” 

 

“Can we have some ice cream?!” Hudson chirped excitedly, swinging their joined hands. 

 

“Mmm. Let’s make a deal. You eat all the vegetables with the pasta tonight, and I just might give you some of that ice cream.” 

 

“Deal!”

 

Arabella grinned, Hudson pointing something out along the road as they walked, mindlessly listening to the chattering of her son while mentally reviewing the day and prepping for dinner.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t notice immediately, but it was kind of hard to remain oblivious when there were so many people starting to stare. 

 

Call it fate, call it intuition, call it his dad instincts--Arabella knew that something was very, very wrong. Most of the time, she got noticed for her looks, yes, but her having a son deterred anyone from approaching her. But this? This was unusual. People are blatantly staring, glancing down at their phones and whispering, and Arabella’s gut indicated that this was not okay. 

 

She sank down very quickly, pulling her son up to perch on her hip, and curled her arms tightly around the little boy. She patted her pockets for a minute, and after being reassured that she had everything, broke out into a dead sprint, Arabella cushioned against her chest securely. 

 

Good timing. Somewhat. Right as she sprinted, the entire horde of people were suddenly attuned to her. 

 

“You’re right, that’s her! That’s her, that’s her!” She heard, along with the absolutely terrifying sound of footsteps rising in noise and frequency behind her. 

 

Shit, shit, shit. She was being chased, and by the looks of it, people actually knew who she was. Was this one of those things again where people posted good-looking people on their socials and then everyone got interested and made it a whole thing to find them? She sure fucking hoped not. 

 

She felt her son tremble against her and the anger swelled up in her. They were scaring her son, and that was unacceptable. Whatever they were chasing her for, it better be a matter of national fucking emergency, because if there was one thing she didn’t stand for, it was when things interfered with her son, and not in a good way. 

 

Two streets, Arabella. Two streets and they were home free. 

 

She skidded around the corner, rounding the bakery that she usually visited with Hudson when they had free times on the weekends--she didn’t know much about pies, but when the granny made her peach pie on Saturdays, Arabella could taste heaven.

She thought about hiding in there for a moment, the old couple was very nice and would be more than willing to help her out, but the last thing she wanted was to bring the crazy horde in and disrupt the bakery’s atmosphere. Plus, she didn’t want to be too much trouble. 

 

She could hear them gaining, their excitement only making them go faster, but finally, finally, Arabella saw her complex, the beaten down beige colored building that looked so ugly, the side door that only residents had access to.

As Arabella ran, she yanked out her keys, opening the door quickly and locking it shut, before running up the black-wired stairs along the side of the building to the third floor, slotting her key in and practically throwing herself inside and locking the door shut. 

 

She heaved a sigh of relief and gently pulled Hudson away. 

 

“How are you doing, buddy?’ She asked, trying to keep her voice light. Kids were particular--if they saw that their parents were scared, they would be too. 

 

Hudson nodded, fingers clutched in the fabric of Arabella’s shirt. “‘M okay, momma. We ran.”

 

“Yes we did! And momma’s gonna figure it out, ‘kay? Why don’t you go play for a lil while she investigates and makes dinner, hm?” She planted a noisy kiss on her son’s bubbly cheek, eliciting a pleased giggle from the young boy, before setting him down, the boy running in the direction of the bedroom.

Arabella watched him go with a fond smile, the edges of her smile wearing as the reality of the situation crashed down on her. 

 

Her first move was to call her best friend.

She pulled out her phone, hearing the ringing noise as she pressed the device to her ear, reaching out to check the lock once more before heading into the kitchen. She glanced down at her hands--they were shaking--but some cooking would do her some good, would keep her distracted. 

 

“Hello?” The sound of Faye’s voice, regardless of the fact that it was tinny through the phone speaker, was enough to elicit relief out of Arabella. Her best friend was always there, even as things became so ridiculously rough for her, this too would be something that they would solve together.

 

“Faye-ah. You won’t believe just what happened to me.” 

 

“What happened, Bella?”

 

“I was walking down the street that I usually take to go home, and all of a sudden, I noticed that there was a shit ton--” Arabella paused and glanced warily in the direction of her bedroom, hoping that Hudson was not listening to the conversation, she had curbed her swearing habit to ensure her curious son wouldn’t pick up on it, and she’d hate it if Hudson started swearing left and right just because she cursed one time. “--a boat load of people. And then they were kinda looking at me, and then looking down at their phones. I didn’t know what to do so I bolted out of there--but they started to chase me!”

 

“What?! Are you and Hudson okay? Do you need me to come over?” Faye’s anxious voice came through the device. 

 

“No, no. We’re okay, we’re in the apartment now. Don’t bother coming over right now, there’s a massive horde of people out front and you might get swarmed too. Your company said you had to keep a low image before your next single, remember? Don’t come, we’re all fine. I’m just kinda confused as to what happened.” Arabella soothed, slowly pulling vegetables out of the cupboards.

Her best friend went silent for a moment, and Arabella was able to run the tomatoes, carrots and cucumber under the water and begin the slow slicing of the carrots before she tentatively decided to break the silence. 

 

“Faye-are you there?”

 

“I’m here. I was just trying to look into it. It was strange that you got swarmed like that, and I think I know the reason.” Right on cue, Arabella’s phone buzzed from where she had set it on the countertop.

She reached, patting her hands dry on her pants before swiping her finger against the screen, cursing slightly at the cracks on the screen pinched slightly at the pad of her finger.

She tapped on the message notification, eyes widening as she saw the Twitter article that Faye had linked. A quick press led to the app being opened: it had been dormant for a very long time, Arabella was very much anti-social media when it came to her parenting.

But even she could see the article, the pictures of her and Gael holding hands, the trend of #GAELMYSTERYWOMAN and #HOTMOM ranking high. She could see the pictures that the horde had snapped of her, fans clamoring over her and Hudson in the replies. 

 

Arabella staggered, curling her hand against the edge of the countertop, ears ringing. Compromised. Her privacy was compromised.

They’d find her. 

 

He’s going to find her.

“Bella?! Bella baby, are you okay?” After a few minutes Arabella realized that her best friend was nervously calling for her attention, the voice growing frantic through the phone. 

 

“Faye-ah,” Arabella knew her voice came out strangled, she was 0.3 seconds away from having a full on mental breakdown, but thankfully, her best friend knew. 

 

“I’m sending you his contact information. Talk to him, okay? There has to be a way we can work around this. Stay home, okay? Don’t go out. Everything’s going to be okay.” 

 

As Arabella was left, staring down at the contact that read GAEL, wondering if she had just destroyed her entire life. 

Again.

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Thousand of miles away from Arabella and her unfortunate predicament, a door opened, a figure rushed through, and a phone was presented. 

 

The figure looked down at the article, then pinched his fingers on the screen, zooming in to the face he saw.

A face he recognized. 

 

Satisfaction curdled in his stomach. 

He found her.

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TBC

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