Aidan
"He's probably sleeping." Her silent sobs are muffled under the blanket, but I can hear them clearly. Listening to her cry like this breaks something in me, but I can't console her, or she'll know I can hear.
"I miss my father," she says again, her voice soft and trembling. The only person she could be talking to this late is Jules, her only friend. She doesn't have anyone else.
Soon, her soft sobs turn into gut-wrenching cries, the kind that shake the bed beneath her. I know the pain in those cries—the feeling of losing everything familiar, everything that mattered.
"The only person who ever cared about me is gone. I lost him… I lost him and everything to them." You have me, I think to myself. It's strange, this desire I have for her to lean on me.
Despite my own battles, I want to take on hers, even if it means risking my life.
My own life was nearly destroyed once, too. It was before her father's death when we visited his house .I still don't know why we were spared that day—maybe the head of security recognized the hidden camera on my tuxedo. It's a small device sewn into the fabric, nearly impossible to spot unless you know what to look for.
Every suit I own has one, each actively monitored by my personal security team. After what happened to my family fifteen years ago, I had been extra cautious about my safety.
Her crying stops, and she falls quiet. I assume the call with Jules has ended.
I consider ways to comfort her without revealing that I can hear her, but before I can figure out a plan, I feel her small frame shift closer, wrapping around me from behind. My heart leaps at this unexpected gesture, relieved and glad that she's seeking comfort from me.
Turning towards her, I pull her into my chest. Her heated face presses against me, her breath steady as she drifts into sleep. Gently, I run my fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp in slow, comforting circles. It's a quiet, peaceful moment, one I wish could last longer.
…
When I wake up, she's already up and dressed. I notice the full face of makeup she's applied, probably an attempt to hide any evidence of her tears from last night.
She asks me to accompany her to her children's home, a place I've only heard her mention briefly before. I'd planned to be somewhere else today, but after witnessing her breakdown, I can't bring myself to refuse. I just want to do something, anything, to bring a little happiness back into her life.
…
As we approach the entrance, I'm taken aback by the building's size and grandeur. "CHILDREN'S HOME" is written boldly above the door, yet this place feels more like a small city than an orphanage. How could I not have known about this? How could she have managed all this on her own?
"Wow, you did this yourself? I'm so proud of you, Kazia," Jules exclaims, echoing my own thoughts. I'm genuinely proud of her, too.
Kazia, along with some of her staff, takes us on a tour of the facility, showing us each building's unique purpose. The infrastructure is impressive: low stairways, wheelchair ramps, escalators, and elevators make the space fully accessible. It's clear that she has built this place with every child in mind, including those with special needs.
The learning environment is especially impressive. They have tailored materials for children with various needs, and the classrooms are spacious and filled with light. Maintaining this place must cost a fortune. Even with government support, I doubt it would be enough to cover everything.
A wave of nostalgia hits me so remember my mother had a dream similar to this, one she never got to realize. If she were still here, she'd love Kazia. She's compassionate, giving, and kind—the type of person my mother would have adored. It's ironic; I once thought Kazia was arrogant, but now I see she's nothing like I imagined. I'll admit, she's the only one I'd ever predicted wrongly, and that adds to her uniqueness.
"I hope I can keep this going," Kazia says with a sigh, her voice heavy with worry.
"I'm sure you can," Jules encourages, trying to reassure her.
"Well, I could when my father was still here. He was my biggest investor, my motivator, and my support system. Now that he's gone, who will carry on that duty? I can't do this alone."
"You have me," I want to say. The words sit on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. I wish I could tell her how much I want to help, how I'd support her every step of the way if she'd just let me. But now isn't the time to reveal myself, it could ruin the plans I'd been working on for over fifteen years.
"Well, well, look who we have here," a woman's voice cuts through the quiet moment. I think I recognize her from my father-in-law's funeral, she must be his stepdaughter. I think her name is Loli? Lila, or something like that. I have a habit of not remembering unimportant things.
"What are you doing here? You're not welcome here," Kazia says, her tone ice-cold.
"Hello to you too, sister," Lila smirks, a mockery dripping from her words.
"Save your greetings. I want you off my property."
Lila laughs, clutching her stomach as if Kazia just told the funniest joke. "I bet you don't have the money to maintain this place, do you? Maybe if you beg, your sister will lend you a hand," she sneers.
"No thanks, my husband is capable enough," Kazia retorts. Her husband? She called me her husband—in public. Clearing my schedule to be here was the best decision I've made in a long time.
Lila's smug smile falters, replaced by an ugly scowl. "You can't fool me. How is a deaf-mute husband going to help you?"
If only she knew what I'm capable of.
"Oh, you'd be surprised," Kazia fires back, her confidence unfazed. "Besides, he's better than any of your little boyfriends. He's mature, good looking, and wow! He's Excellent in bed. It's unfortunate you won't ever experience it. I've heard enough weird sounds of your love making sessions to know your boyfriends don't do it right."
Jules bursts into laughter at her comeback, and I have to admit, I'm impressed. I never knew she had such fire in her. She probably thinks she can say these things freely because I supposedly can't hear. I wonder what her reaction will be when she finds out I've been aware of everything.
"You just wait until my brother hears about this," she snaps, her face twisted in fury. "I'll make sure you lose this place. Then we'll see if your pathetic husband can save you."
With that, she storms out, leaving us to continue our tour. But the encounter has soured Kazia's mood. Jules's attempts to cheer her up are met with one-word answers or silence.
Kazia's uncharacteristic quietness gnaws at me, fueling a slow-burning anger. I'm going to make sure that stepsister of hers pay for what she did today. No one messes with my wife.