Jiya
Back home, I changed Emma’s clothes and eased her into bed for a nap, the pain medication already making her drowsy.
Her tiny lashes rested against her cheeks, and I found myself watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest, needing the reassurance that she was finally safe.
One small hand remained wrapped tightly around Mia, the doll Cole had given her for her birthday, as though even in her sleep she wasn't ready to let go of it.
Lucas refused to leave her side. He sat close to the bed, watching her quietly, his small hand resting near hers while Milo and Oreo nestled beside the children protectively, unusually calm after the chaos of the day.
Exhaustion eventually claimed Lucas, and he fell asleep shortly after, curled beside Emma. I covered him gently with a blanket and slipped a pillow under his head, careful not to wake either of them while the dogs remained lying nearby.
Geeta was calmer now, though the strain of the morning still showed in the tightness around her eyes. “I’ll take a shower, Didi, and order lunch.”
I nodded, and she headed to the bathroom.
Heading downstairs, I sank onto the couch, my body completely drained, still wearing the same clothes I had rushed out in earlier, now stiff and stained with Emma’s dried blood.
The dark patches against the fabric were a brutal reminder of how quickly an ordinary morning had turned into a nightmare.
Shortly after, Geeta came downstairs and told me she would prepare soup to go along with the food she had ordered.
Then the doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Before I could react, furious knocking rattled the front door.
Geeta rushed to answer it.
“Where is she?” Caleb asked the moment she opened the door, his voice strained as he stepped inside.
“She’s in the living room.”
I heard hurried footsteps approaching seconds later, followed by the soft thud of something hitting the floor.
Milo and Oreo rushed downstairs from Emma’s room. They stopped in the living room doorway, their bodies tense as low growls rumbled in their throats while they stared at Caleb.
I remained frozen on the couch, my back still facing him.
In the rush to get Emma to the hospital, I had forgotten my phone entirely. I had only seen the missed calls and messages moments before his knocking started.
I understood why he was angry. We had worked together closely on a project that meant everything to me, a project I carried in my heart because it had been Cole’s dream.
Every meeting, every decision, every detail felt personal…
because it was. Caleb had encouraged me to take the lead for the meeting, placing his trust in me when I had doubted myself.
He had believed in my abilities, pushed me forward, and stood beside me throughout the process.
From his perspective, I had disappeared without any explanation, after weeks of preparation and effort. He had every right to feel blindsided.
But when it came to my work and my daughter, there was never a question in my mind about what mattered more.
I would choose my child every single time.
And I knew that once I explained the situation—once he understood what had happened—no one, including him, would question that choice.
“After everything we put into this week, you disappear and don’t answer your phone?” Caleb demanded, running a frustrated hand through his hair.
Milo and Oreo immediately moved toward me and stopped beside the couch. Low warning growls rumbled in their throats.
Caleb’s raised voice seemed to vibrate through the entire room, yet I still could not bring myself to move or look at him.
“You couldn’t send one message?” he asked, his voice rising further.
The strain in his voice twisted painfully inside my chest.
“Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“Stop yelling at her!”
Lucas’s trembling voice cut straight through the room.
Caleb fell silent.
Without thinking, I rushed toward Lucas and dropped to my knees in front of him.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I said softly, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Don’t cry.”
“But it’s not your fault, Mama. It’s mine,” he sobbed.
“No, baby. It was an accident.” I wiped his tears gently away. “I already told you this wasn’t your fault, okay?”
He sniffled hard before nodding.
“Go upstairs with Geeta and change your clothes. I’ll come up soon.”
I watched Geeta guide him toward the stairs. Oreo immediately followed close beside Lucas, brushing protectively against his legs as they climbed upward.
Milo, however, stayed behind.
He moved closer to me, his body stiff as another low growl rumbled in his throat while he kept his eyes locked on Caleb.
The second they disappeared upstairs, silence settled over the room again.
I could feel Caleb standing behind me.
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I whispered, bending to scratch Milo gently behind the ears as he continued growling at Caleb.
“What the hell happened that you—”
I turned around slowly.
The second his eyes landed on me, everything changed.
The anger vanished from his face, the colour faded from his skin, and the rigid tension in his body loosened. His jaw dropped as his eyes moved over the dried stains covering my blouse and pants.
He cursed under his breath and covered his mouth with his hand.
“What... what happened?” he asked, his voice octaves softer than before. “Is everything okay?”
“Emma had an accident,” I said quietly. “She slipped and hit her head on the kitchen island while I was leaving for the city. We just got back from the hospital.”
“Oh my gosh!” His eyes widened, and his lips pursed. “Is she okay? How is she now?”
“She needed six stitches, but she’s okay now. She’s sleeping.”
“Did they do any tests... any scans or X-rays?”
“Yes. The doctor checked her thoroughly. She’s fine.”
He let out a huge breath, pressing his palm to his heart.
Then he walked toward me slowly.
Milo growled again.
“It’s okay, Milo,” I whispered.
He immediately sat beside me, though his eyes remained fixed warily on Caleb.
I crossed my arms, lifting one hand to my lips, pressing my fingertips lightly against them, trying to hold back the rush of feelings threatening to spill over. Only then did I realize my fingers were trembling uncontrollably.
Caleb stopped in front of me. His eyes dropped to my hands before lifting to my face, noticing the tremor.
Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms.
The embrace came suddenly, his hold tightening around me as if he were trying to steady both of us at once.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m such an idiot. I’m really sorry.”
I clung to him and hadn’t realized I was shivering until he held me.
My heart had not stopped racing with fear until I felt his heartbeat against mine through his shirt.
Only then was I finally able to breathe when I felt his breath brush against my hair.
My body sank into his, surrendering to the warmth of his arms around me—it was the comfort I needed right then.
For me.
For our daughter.
The daughter he still didn't know was his.
“What happened?” Caleb asked quietly after a moment, still holding me. “How did this happen?”
“The children were playing,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “I heard Geeta scream and ran into the kitchen. Lucas had been chasing Emma, and she slipped.”
“And then?”
“I grabbed her and rushed to the hospital.”
The image of blood gushing from my daughter’s head flashed violently in my mind. That sight had awakened memories of my foster mother’s death. It reminded me of Cole and the devastating day I lost him.
My breathing grew shallow and uneven. I felt myself slipping into the same helpless fear I had known before.
“Hey.”
Caleb’s arms loosened, and he gently pulled back. He placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Look at me.”
I couldn’t.
His hand slid upward, carefully lifting my chin.
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“Emma’s fine now,” he said, his voice calm but commanding. “She’s safe. Breathe.”
“Yes... But it could have been worse,” I whispered. “A lot worse.”
“But it wasn’t,” he said, holding my face gently between his hands. “She’s fine, and she’s sleeping, just as you said. Don’t think about the worst-case scenario when it didn’t happen. You handled the situation quickly and well. Be proud of yourself.”
Slowly, my breathing steadied.
I was grateful her injury had not been serious. Grateful that my daughter—our daughter—was safe. Thank you, God, for looking after her.
Only then did I realize that he was still holding my face.
Embarrassment fluttered through me, and I lowered my eyes.
He released me almost immediately.
“You should have seen her,” I said softly, managing a small smile. “She asked if she could have ice cream afterward because she did not cry during the stitches. Such a brave little girl.”
A faint smile touched his lips.
Caleb brushed his thumb lightly across my cheek. “She is her mother’s daughter, after all.”
That one intimate gesture against my cheek sent warmth spreading through me before I could stop it.
Memories I had spent years burying stirred painfully back to life beneath my skin.
It was like a sealed box being opened up after being hidden away for years, only to find the contents still alive and waiting.
As I gazed into his blue-green eyes, I noticed the faint lines at the corners of his eyes and the sharper angles of his face. Time had changed him, but not enough to erase the man I once loved.
“Mama!” Lucas called from upstairs, breaking the moment.
I stepped back quickly. “I need to check on him.”
I headed upstairs before I could think too much about how close we had just been, with Milo quietly following behind me.
Inside Lucas’s room, I found him changed and sitting quietly on the bed.
“Supper should be here soon, sweetheart,” I said gently. “Do you want to keep Caleb company while I shower?”
“Okay.” He hesitated. “You guys are okay now?”
“Yes, baby. We’re okay.”
I exited his room and walked into Emma’s.
Geeta was there watching her.
“Can you follow up on the order?” I asked softly. “I’ll shower and change, and then wake Emma.”
Geeta nodded and slipped quietly out of the room.
I looked at my daughter again.
She was sleeping peacefully in her bed, her small chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
The doctor had given her pain medication, which she needed to take for another two days.
I had hovered over her when we had returned from the hospital, rocking gently in place and biting my lips, unable to pull myself away.
Geeta had finally insisted that I step out of the room because she could see how terrified I was.
I placed my hand over the center of my chest and let out a long, heavy breath.
Accidents like this happened to children all the time, but my mind kept replaying the image of blood pouring down her face.
Eventually, I forced myself to move.
I showered quickly, letting the warm water wash away the fear and exhaustion clinging to my skin.
Then I returned to Emma’s room, gently woke her, bathed her carefully, and got her ready for supper.