Isla had settled into the quiet monotony of her new life, though “settled” was hardly the right word. Each day was a battle-against exhaustion, loneliness, and the haunting memories of a man she once thought she loved. Her world had shrunk to the size of her small rented house and the soft coos of her daughter, Amara.
She had chosen this isolation to protect her child, but the weight of it was heavy, pressing against her chest like an iron hand.
—
One evening, after putting Amara down for her nap, Isla sat at the kitchen table with her head in her hands. A pile of bills stared back at her, a constant reminder of the life she had to sustain alone. The hum of the baby monitor was the only sound in the room.
She whispered to herself, “You can do this, Isla. For her.”
A faint cry crackled through the monitor, and Isla immediately pushed her chair back, rushing to Amara’s crib. The baby was stirring, her tiny fists waving in the air. Isla scooped her up, rocking her gently.
“It’s okay, my love,” she murmured. “Mommy’s here. Mommy will always be here.”
Amara blinked up at her, and for a moment, Isla felt her resolve strengthen. Her daughter was her entire world now, and nothing else mattered.
—
Across the city, Dante paced his office, his movements sharp and restless. Marco stood by the door, his face a mask of professionalism, though he knew the storm brewing inside his boss.
“We’ve checked every lead,” Marco began, carefully choosing his words. “The private investigator reported that Isla’s been off the grid for months. No bank activity, no social media, nothing.”
Dante spun around, his eyes narrowing. “Then find something else. Check hospitals, pharmacies-anything a mother with a baby would need.”
Marco shifted uncomfortably. “We’re already monitoring nearby facilities. She’s being very careful.”
Dante slammed his hand on the desk, the sound echoing through the room. “She has my child, Marco. Do you understand? My child. She can’t just disappear like this.”
Marco nodded. “I understand, boss. We’ll keep digging.”
But even as Marco left the room, Dante knew this wasn’t just about Amara. It was about Isla too. Her leaving had cut deeper than he wanted to admit, and now, the thought of her surviving without him-of her thriving-felt like a wound he couldn’t close.
—
Back at home, Isla struggled to make ends meet. She picked up small sewing jobs from the local community, working late into the night as Amara slept beside her. The exhaustion was unrelenting, but she refused to let it break her.
One day, as she walked through the market with Amara strapped to her chest, an older woman approached her.
“Beautiful baby,” the woman said, smiling warmly.
Isla returned the smile but kept her answers short. “Thank you.”
“You new in town?” the woman pressed.
Isla hesitated. “Just passing through,” she lied, her heart pounding. She couldn’t afford anyone getting too curious.
The woman nodded, seemingly satisfied, and Isla breathed a sigh of relief as she hurried away.
Later that evening, as she tucked Amara into her crib, she whispered, “We’ll keep moving if we have to, baby girl. No one’s going to take you from me.”
—
Dante sat in his penthouse, staring at a photo of Isla that he’d kept in his drawer. It was an old picture, taken on a rare day when she’d been genuinely happy. Her smile was radiant, her eyes full of light.
He clenched his jaw, anger and regret churning in his chest. He hadn’t been there for her when she needed him, and now, he was paying the price.
Picking up his phone, he called Marco.
“Any updates?” Dante barked.
Marco’s voice was steady. “None yet, boss. But we’re expanding the search to neighboring cities.”
Dante sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She has to be somewhere, Marco. Find her.”
—
Isla’s days were filled with small joys that kept her going. Amara’s first laugh had been a revelation, a sound so pure it brought tears to Isla’s eyes.
One evening, as she fed Amara her bottle, she spoke softly to her daughter.
**”You’re growing so fast, my baby” she says kissing her cheeks to which she giggled. while Isla felt a tug in her heart.
Dante spun around, his eyes narrowing dangerously as his frustration boiled over. “You’re telling me I have all this power, all these resources, and I still can’t find her? She’s just one woman with a baby, Marco!”
Marco shifted uncomfortably under Dante’s glare. “She’s smart, boss. She covered her tracks well. Whoever helped her planned this down to the last detail.”
Dante slammed his fist on the desk, making the glass paperweight rattle. “She can’t just disappear! Amara is my daughter. I will find them both.”
Marco nodded but hesitated before adding, “What if she doesn’t want to be found? You did-” He stopped mid-sentence when Dante shot him a sharp look.
“Careful, Marco,” Dante warned, his voice low and cold. “Whatever mistakes I made, I’m going to fix them. Isla can hate me all she wants, but my daughter doesn’t deserve this.”
Marco sighed inwardly, knowing better than to push further. “We’ll keep looking. Someone, somewhere, will have seen something.”