unts. Simple. Very simple. So simple that at times it bores me to death.

But I have to do it. It took me a lot of hard work to land this job from a waitress in a restaurant. I need this job as much as Theo needs me.

Thats the best comparison Right? Theo does need me Right?

What am I asking? Of course she needs me, Im her mother.

When Im done with work at around two in the afternoon, the first place I stop is the bakery, where I purchase a little something for my little angel.

Once done, I drive to the nursery, where I see parents already picking up their kids, and then there is my little angel, sitting on a swing all by herself and staring at a distance.

Yes, my daughter is a loner. The children play with her when it is game time, but other than that, no one wants to hang out with her. I don know if its the kids fault or their parents, who give distasteful looks every time I pass by them. Like as if Im some kind of germs they want to avoid.

Why you ask? Simple. Im a single mom. And not just that, but a single mom who is considered too young to be a mom. Of course they must have jumped to some shameless conclusion which I will prefer not to mention.

However, seeing my girl all alone and upset, makes my inner self break down.

”Hey! ” I call out once Im in front of her, but her eyes remain trained on somewhere else. ”What are you looking at? ”

Theo does not reply, but I follow her eyes to what shes looking at, only to find a little girl the same age as hers, giggling continuously as her father spins her around happily.

Her father…

Theo is thinking about…her father.

I gulp in a reflex, avoiding any eye contact as I blink continuously, trying to not let the moisture come through.

Even after five years, this is a topic I still can bring myself to discuss, not even with my daughter. The pain is still raw, and I don want to think about it.

But that doesn mean my daughter doesn think about it either.

The first time she asked about her father, I had no idea what to say. And like a coward, I had locked myself up in my room, crying my heart out while my little angel pounded with her tiny fist on my door.

Theo never asked about her father after that, but I for one know she hasn stopped thinking about it. She doesn ask, and I selfishly don tell. I don know for how long I can keep this hidden from her.

Perhaps I will tell her, but not now. Now today.

”H-hey, ” I croak out, groaning mentally for being so pathetic, but at least it pulls Theo towards me. ”I brought you something. ”

When I show her the box that holds the cake, her face breaks into a million dollar smile, a smile I could forever gaze at and never get tired. And yet at times my own daughters face freaks me out.

She looks too much like her father.

Now is not the time! Focus!

”Its cake! ” Theo squeals, while I grin at her. ”It is! ”

Laughing to herself, Theo jumps into my arms, hugging me tightly. ”You are the best mommy! ”

She is happy, but I know that part of it is just pretending. For a girl her age Theo sure has matured a lot, understanding things someone her age shouldn .

And that kind of broke my heart. My daughter doesn have that foolish innosense like other five year olds. Her brain is too much developed to understand adults mentality. She knows pain a five year old shouldn .

Hugging her tiny frame to myself tightly, I inhale her baby scent, closing my eyes in contentment.

”Lets go home. ”

But you see, fate had other plans for me today. Because today I won be able to take Theo to a home, nor would we have the luxury to have our cake.

Because when we got home, there were three cars parked outside, the door to the house open ajar. And when we got in, we were greeted by a series of men in black.

Something I was so used to once upon a time. But had brought myself to forget in the last five years.

Nothing good ever comes if you encounter men in black. They are always bad news.

And right now, I know that better than anyone.

For in my couch sat a man in his forties, dressed to his best but with one look I know he isn the real boss here. He is the man who gets his hands dirty for the actual boss.

”Mrs Alexandra Davis! ” He calls out from his position on the couch. My heart beat picks up speed, but the man only smirks in a sinister way.

”Or should I say, Soralina Russo? ”

— — — — — — — — — —

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