Chapter 3: The Weight of the Past
The little boy’s eyes sparkled like polished onyx as they curved into crescent moons with his wide smile.
“Of course! I’ll go anywhere with you, Mommy!” he chirped, his voice bright and full of innocence.
Alana couldn’t help but smile as warmth flooded her chest. Every time she looked at his tiny face framed by soft, dark curls, she was reminded of the miracle he was. She often marveled at how someone so pure and beautiful could have come from her. In his presence, the pain of her past felt a little easier to bear.
“Well, then we better pack our bags,” she said, brushing a hand over his soft hair. “We leave for the airport tomorrow afternoon.”
“Alright!” he said with a decisive nod before racing off to his room to pack his tiny suitcase. His enthusiasm brought a fleeting moment of lightness to her otherwise heavy heart.
Alana sighed as she watched him go. Five years ago, she had left everything behind. Her father’s unforgiving words, her half-sister’s cruelty, and the betrayal of someone she had once called her best friend had driven her to a foreign land, where she started over. It hadn’t been easy. She had arrived with little more than the clothes on her back and the secret growing within her.
Now, she was returning. Not because she wanted to—her heart still ached from memories of rejection—but because her career demanded it. She had spent years carving out a life for herself and her son. Facing her homeland meant confronting the wounds she had tried hard to forget, but she knew she couldn’t avoid them forever.
Three days later, the hum of the airport buzzed around her. Alana pushed a luggage cart piled high with suitcases. Her son sat perched on the largest, his little legs swinging in rhythm. His eyes darted wide with curiosity, taking in the new sights and sounds with wonder.
Last updated on May 30th, 2025 at 08:04 pm
