Chapter 8

Lauren

I pressed myself back against the cold, tiled wall, the chill seeping through my thin blouse and grounding me, if only for a second.

My breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, and my chest felt too tight, like I’d forgotten how to breathe. My heart was pounding—loud, insistent, impossible to ignore.

I couldn’t turn around. I wouldn’t.

But I had felt him. His presence lingered like a weight pressing down on my shoulders, his gaze burning into me even after the elevator doors had closed on his departure to the floors above.

Everything in me screamed to look back, to confirm that he was gone, that it wasn’t just my imagination. But I knew better. I couldn’t let myself.

Watching him walk away should’ve been a relief. It should’ve felt like exhaling after holding my breath underwater, like breaking the surface and finally being free. But instead, it left me hollow, as if I were sinking deeper into a sea of emotions I couldn’t outrun.

I thought I’d handle this better. I told myself I would. Sure, I’d hoped I’d never see him again—not like this, not while I was hiding—but I thought I was stronger now. I am stronger now. Aren’t I?

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to focus, to find some semblance of control.

He’s gone, I repeated silently. He won’t look back. Come back. He never does.

But the thought brought no comfort, only a bitter ache that I hated myself for feeling.

Abigail’s voice cut through my thoughts, bright and excited. “Mommy, I just met a handsome uncle!”

I turned, snapping back to the present just as a tiny figure rushed toward me.

Abigail’s face glowed with a joy so pure it could only belong to a child, her chocolate curls bouncing with each determined step.

Behind her, Daphne followed with a wobbly smile, clearly worn out from trying to keep up with the little whirlwind.

“Abigail, no,” I said sharply, my tone still soft but stern. She stopped in her tracks, her big brown eyes wide, the excitement faltering on her lips.

I crouched down to her level, feeling a tightness in my chest. “You can’t just run off like that from Daphne. Especially not up to strangers. And you definitely can’t call them ‘daddy’.”

Her lip trembled as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clearly disappointed. “But I thought he was nice, Mommy. He didn’t look mad.”

I sighed, guilt pooling in my stomach.

She was too innocent, too trusting. I hated that. I hated that the world was full of the kinds of people who might take that light from her. How could I teach her that without destroying the very thing I loved about her—the way she saw the good in everyone, no matter how unlikely?

“Abigail,” I said gently, “that man might be kind, but you don’t know anything about him, do you? What if he already has a family, or isn’t who he seems to be? What if you upset him?”

Abigail frowned, glancing down at her maryjane shoes. “But he didn’t seem unhappy when I called him that.”

I ran a hand through my hair, the tension in my shoulders spreading as I stood and pulled her into a tight hug. She didn’t understand, not yet, but I couldn’t help my overbearing worry.

“I know, baby. But…we have to be careful.”

She gave me one of her wide, innocent stares, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang in my heart. She only wanted to be loved, to be seen. A father.

“I promise, Mommy. I’ll be careful.”

I kissed her forehead, wishing more than anything that I could give that to her, even if it was impossible.

We didn’t talk about it again, and by the time we got home, I felt like I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I slumped into my room as Daphne followed after me, clearly holding her tongue until we were alone. She had this knowing look on her face. One I knew that said she was finding the right words.

“Hey, Lauren, you know I love ya—”

“But,” I cut her off with a smirk and she rolled her eyes with a smile.

“But you’re overreacting,” she said, voice soft but direct. “Alexander, though it was kind of crazy seeing him there, was kind to Abigail. He doesn’t seem like ‘that kind’ of person.”

Alexander? So the man she had ran into was him? I rubbed my eyes, the exhaustion from the day catching up with me.

“You don’t understand,” I murmured, but I didn’t have to explain. Daphne knew too much for her not to understand, even if she didn’t always agree.

“I do understand,” she said, stepping closer to the bed. “But you can’t let your past control everything. You’re not the same person you were before, Lauren. You’re not the weak, scared Omega who let herself be hurt. You’re stronger now.”

I could feel her eyes on me, piercing through the cracks in my armor. She was right, of course. I wasn’t that person anymore. But I didn’t know how to stop being afraid.

“I know,” I said quietly. “But right now, all I have is Abigail. I can’t lose her. Not after—” I stopped myself, the words too painful to say. Not after I lost everything.

Daphne sighed, her expression softening. She knew what I meant. She didn’t need me to finish. “You’re not going to lose her, Lauren. You’re not. Just breathe. You’re okay.”

But I didn’t feel okay. I pushed those thoughts down, burying them where they couldn’t surface, at least not for now.

The next morning, Daphne and I took Abigail to the mall, hoping to inject some normalcy back into our lives—even if it came with the usual headache of finding a parking spot in this endless maze.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel into the ridges of the leather beneath my fingers—anything to anchor myself, to shake the unease that seemed to weigh me down like a storm cloud.

And then it happened.

Out of nowhere, a small figure darted in front of my car. My heart seized, and I slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching, the girls next to me screaming as my breath caught in my throat.

For a moment, everything froze—the world narrowing to that tiny shape amidst the parked cars.

A child. Alone, weaving through the rows of vehicles.

No. Not just any child.

It was him.

Owen.

I couldn’t explain why my heart felt like it skipped a beat when I saw him. The moment our eyes met, his flashed in shock.

Before I could do anything, Daphne gasped. “Oh my god! Did we almost merk that kid?! What is he doing out here alone!”

We both popped out of the car, approaching him as Daphne reached out.

“Aw, poor kid! What a cutie though. You need help, love?” she exclaimed, reaching for Owen’s cheek, but he was already pulling away, his eyes fixed on me, his small hand clutching for the hem of my shirt.

I blinked surprised down at his tiny hand on me but he looked desperately up at me.

I nodded to Daphne explaining, “It’s okay,” I think. “He’s one of my patients.” Then crouched down until I was at his level.

“Owen? What are you doing out here? Are you alright? Do you need to get back to the hospital?” I asked gently, trying to remain calm for everyone.

His response was a quick shake of his head, his face turning red as he stammered out a word. “Hungry.”

I blinked again, surprised by his response. It was so unexpected from the boy who rarely showed emotion. And…in the middle of a parking lot.

“He’s hungry?” Daphne repeated. She looked confused at me before we both shrugged.

At the restaurant in the mall, I tried to keep the mood light, chatting about little nothings as Owen focused on his bowl of noodles.

He ate slowly, deliberately, but his eyes never left me, their intensity quiet yet unyielding.

I waited for the right moment before finally asking, “Owen, do you know your parents’ contact information?”

He paused, his fork hovering mid-air. The hesitation stretched long enough that I thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he carefully picked up a napkin and started scribbling.

His handwriting was neat for a child—small, deliberate strokes that hinted at a precision beyond his years.

“Dad,” he murmured, so softly I almost missed it.

I nodded, offering him an encouraging smile as I took the napkin. Pulling out my phone, I punched in the numbers and waited.

The call connected, but there was no greeting, no sound of someone picking up—just the soft hum of an open line. Confused, I checked the timer to confirm it was active.

“Hello?” I ventured, my voice firm but calm. I went on to explain what happened, waiting for a response.

The silence on the other end stretched, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I decided to explain the situation anyways, that Owen was safe, where he was. Still, there was nothing.

Finally, a single word broke the stillness.

“Hm.”

And then the line went dead.

I stared at my phone for a moment, unsettled. Shaking off the unease, I turned back to Owen. He didn’t seem bothered at all. Instead, he sat quietly, listening to Abigail’s endless chatter with a focus that bordered on fascination.

Abigail, for her part, didn’t seem to mind his reserved nature. She spoke with the same boundless energy she always had, her animated hands waving as she explained her favorite noodles in detail to him.

What caught me off guard was how her words didn’t just skim over him like a skipping stone—they sank in, getting through to him like a stone dropped into still water. He was listening. A soft laugh here, a hesitant nod there. Every so often, he’d even add a word or two, his voice quiet but present.

It was... unexpected.

Daphne leaned into me, her gaze shifting between the two kids. She lowered her voice, but the curiosity was clear.

“Man, this is wild. Don’t you think they kind of look alike?”