Five

Hazel woke up late the next morning. Her eyes felt heavy, like sleep had been filled with rocks instead of dreams. She dragged herself out of bed, the memory of the man in the suit still haunting her. His sharp eyes, the way he looked right at her, replayed in her head like a broken tape.

The house was quiet. Daniel had already left for school, and Marie was humming softly in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. Hazel loved mornings like this, when her mom’s voice filled the air like a blanket.

“Morning, Mom,” Hazel said, trying to sound normal.

Marie turned and smiled, though it was small, tired. “Morning, sweetheart. Come eat breakfast, it's ready .”

Hazel nodded and sat at the table. A bowl of porridge waited for her, steam curling up. She picked at it, her appetite gone. She wanted to ask about yesterday. She wanted answers. But the words stuck in her throat.

Before she could speak, the door creaked. Jackson stepped into the kitchen from the porch, his shoulders sagging like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes landed on Hazel, and for a moment, he froze. Then, quickly, he forced a smile.

“Eat,” he said gruffly, pulling out a chair. “Did you sleep well?”

Hazel nodded quietly. Normally, her dad was stern but soft underneath; she could always see it in his eyes. But today his face looked carved from stone.

She wanted to ask again. Who was that man? What did he mean? But Jackson’s expression scared her. He looked as if she pushed even a little, something inside him might break.

So she stayed silent.

After breakfast, Hazel left home to go see her friends, which was none other than Charles. As expected, he was the only one at home as his siblings had left for school and his mom had gone to work. Hazel sat under a tree in the backyard waiting for Charles to bring drinks.

“You’re quiet today,” he said, sitting down beside her, handing her a can of Coke. He leaned back against the trunk,

“Usually you can’t stop laughing at my bad jokes.”

Hazel gave a weak smile. “Maybe your jokes aren’t funny anymore.”

He smirked. “Impossible.”

For a while, they just sat there, gulping down Coke and listening to the wind move through the branches. Then Charles nudged her lightly with his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Hazel hesitated. She hadn’t planned to tell him. But looking at his face, the concern in his eyes, she felt the words pushing up anyway.

“Yesterday,” she said softly, “a man came to our house. In a suit. He said… he said I might be a missing child.”

Charles sat up straighter. “What? A missing child?”

Hazel nodded, staring at her hands. “Dad got really angry. He told the man to leave. Mom looked scared. I don’t know what it means.”

Charles was quiet for a moment, then he shook his head. “Hazel, they’re wrong. You’re not missing. You’re here. You’re with your family.”

“But what if…” Hazel’s voice cracked. “What if it’s true? What if I don’t really belong here?”

Charles grabbed her hand, firm. “Listen to me. You belong here. You belong with the people who raised you. That’s what matters.”

His words wrapped around her like a shield, but the doubt still sat heavy in her chest. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to pretend everything was fine. But she couldn’t shake the way that man had looked at her, like she was a puzzle piece that finally fit.

Charles squeezed her hand. “Even if something’s true about… about your past, it doesn’t change who you are. And it doesn’t change what you mean to me.”

Hazel felt her throat tighten. She blinked fast, trying not to cry.

“Promise?” she whispered.

“Promise,” he said and smiled cheekily at her

“ Why are we always promising stuff?” Hazel asked already cracking up.

That evening, Hazel walked home slower than usual. The streets felt different, heavier, like everyone was watching her.

When she turned onto her street, her stomach dropped. The black car was back. Parked right in front of her house.

Her steps quickened. She hurried through the gate and found her parents standing outside the bungalow. Jackson was rigid, his fists clenched, while Marie twisted her hands nervously.

The suited man was there again. Beside him stood a woman Hazel had never seen before. She was elegant, her clothes expensive, her hair pinned neatly. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, landed on Hazel the second she appeared.

“There,” the woman said, her voice cold. “That’s her.”

Hazel froze.

Jackson stepped forward, blocking the woman’s view. “Leave. Now. I told you yesterday.”

The woman ignored him. “Hazel.” Her voice cut through the air like a knife. “Come here.”

Hazel’s legs trembled. She didn’t move.

Marie rushed to Hazel’s side, wrapping an arm protectively around her shoulders. “Go inside, sweetheart.”

The suited man turned to Hazel and spoke up, calm and firm. “We believe your parents are not who you think they are, Records suggest you may have been kidnapped as a child.”

Hazel’s world tilted. Kidnapped? As a child?

“No!” Jackson’s roar shook the street. “She’s ours. Ours! You won’t take her!”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “You’re standing in the way of the truth. And the truth always wins.”

Hazel’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear. She wanted to scream that they were wrong, that she didn’t care, that she belonged here with the Jacksons. But the words wouldn’t come.

The suited man handed Jackson a folder. “We’ll be in touch. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Then they left, their car disappearing down the road, leaving silence behind.

Hazel turned to her parents. “What… what did they mean?” Her voice shook. “Is it true?”

Marie’s eyes filled with tears. Jackson said nothing. His silence was worse than shouting.

Hazel’s chest tightened. “Please. Tell me.”

Marie cupped Hazel’s face in her hands. “You are our daughter. Nothing will ever change that. Do you understand me?”

Hazel nodded slowly, but her stomach churned.

Because deep inside, she wasn’t sure she believed it.

That night, Hazel lay awake in her small room, staring at the ceiling, She wished she could trade places with Daniel, live in a world without questions or shadows.

She thought of Charles. His hand gripping hers, his promise.

Even if something’s true about your past, it doesn’t change who you are.

She wanted to hold onto those words. She wanted to believe them with all her heart.

But as the darkness stretched, Hazel felt a storm building. The people in the black car weren’t going away. And when they came back, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop them from tearing her life apart.