The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn as Flora and Tyros’ car finally pulled up to the sprawling Victorian house. The journey from their secluded countryside home had taken longer than anticipated, the winding roads and unexpected traffic snarling their progress.
Flora, her face flushed with a mixture of apologies and relief, tumbled out of the car, her vibrant floral dress swirling around her ankles. “I’m so incredibly sorry for keeping you all waiting!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with genuine remorse.
Stella, her serene smile unwavering, reassured her with a gentle wave. “It’s perfectly fine, Flora. We were just admiring the sunset.”
Flora’s eyes, however, were drawn to something else entirely.
A young boy, perhaps five or six years old, sat nestled beside Stella, his small hand gripping hers. His bright, inquisitive eyes met hers, and a spark of recognition flickered between them.
Flora’s breath hitched.
Stella, sensing her friend’s surprise, quickly intervened. “We’ll talk about this later, Flora,” she whispered, her voice low and firm, a subtle warning in her tone.
Flora, understanding the unspoken message, nodded curtly, a flicker of curiosity still dancing in her eyes. She offered a reassuring smile to the boy, a silent promise to return to this mystery later.
Tyros emerged from the car, his usually jovial demeanor slightly ruffled by the drive. “Hey! I’ve been trying to reach you for ages,” he chided Brandon, his voice laced with playful exasperation.
Brandon, leaning against the car with a nonchalant air, simply smirked. “Busy,” he replied, his tone suggesting a far more interesting engagement than a phone call.
Darrel broke the tension. “Let’s eat!” he announced, ushering everyone inside.
The aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread filled the air, a comforting balm to the earlier anxieties.
Inside, as Bryce, the young boy, reached for his plate, a small, almost imperceptible tremor ran through the group. His request, “Mommy, I want some!” was innocent enough.
Stella, her movements graceful and practiced, filled his plate with tender slices of meat, her eyes never leaving his.
Daisha, observing the scene with a knowing smile, leaned towards Brandon. “What a sight,” she whispered, her voice barely audible above the murmur of conversation. A mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “Don’t tell me he calls you Daddy?” she teased, her words hanging in the air like a question mark.
Brandon’s response was unexpected, even shocking. “Yeah, you got that right,” he admitted, his usual playful demeanor replaced with a quiet seriousness.
Daisha’s playful teasing faltered, replaced by a stunned silence.
Darrel, sensing the shift in mood, quickly intervened, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.
Later, as the initial awkwardness subsided, Flora turned her attention to Bryce. “So, what’s your name, young man?” she asked gently.
Bryce, still clinging to Stella’s side, looked up at her with hesitant eyes.
Stella, sensing his apprehension, offered a reassuring smile. “Go on, tell them your name, sweetie,” she prompted, her voice soft and encouraging.
“I’m Bryce,” he finally whispered, his voice barely a murmur.
Flora beamed. “What a lovely name,” she said, her gaze lingering on Stella.
The lingering scent of roasted meat and herbs still clung to the air as Stella gently ushered Bryce towards the house, the evening light painting long shadows across the hallway. “Time for bed, my sweet,” she murmured, her voice soft and soothing.
Bryce, surprisingly compliant, didn’t protest as she led him towards a spare bedroom, the walls adorned with whimsical animal prints.
The room was small but cozy, bathed in the warm glow of a bedside lamp.
Stella helped him undress, her movements gentle and practiced, a mother’s instinct guiding her touch. She hummed a soft melody as she bathed him, the water a soothing balm against the day’s adventures.
Darrel had already prepared a small pile of clothes, soft pajamas in calming blues and greens.
“Thank you, Darrel,” Stella whispered, her gratitude genuine.
“No problem at all, Stella,” he replied, a warm smile gracing his lips before he quietly withdrew, leaving the mother and son alone.
Stella dressed Bryce in the fresh pajamas, his small body relaxed in her arms. Tucking Bryce into the soft bed, she smoothed his hair back from his forehead.
“I’m going to sleep now, Mommy,” he mumbled, his eyes already drooping.
Stella leaned down, her lips brushing against his forehead. “Goodnight, my sweet,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
“Goodnight, Mommy,” he replied, his voice drowsy but clear. Bryce’s breath evened out, his small body sinking into the soft mattress.
Stella continued to stroke his hair, her heart swelling with a mixture of love and apprehension. Only when she was certain he was deeply asleep did she gently withdraw her hand, rising to her feet.
Outside the room, Flora, Tyros, and Daisha waited, their faces etched with a mixture of curiosity and concern.
Daisha broke the ice. “Alright, let’s hear it,” she said, her voice hushed but firm.
Stella took a deep breath, settling into a chair facing her friends. “It happened at the fast-food place,” she began, her voice low and steady.
She recounted the encounter, the unexpected approach, the child’s innocent call of “Mommy,” the overwhelming wave of emotion that had washed over her. She described his small hand clutching hers, his trusting gaze, the sudden, undeniable connection that had formed between them.
Brandon sat beside her, his hand resting reassuringly on hers.
Flora, her eyes wide with a mixture of surprise and understanding, finally spoke. “So… are you saying you’re going to adopt him?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Stella nodded, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. The weight of her decision, the enormity of the commitment, was palpable in the air. But in her eyes, there was also a profound sense of peace, a quiet certainty that this was exactly where she was meant to be.
Daisha’s words, a gentle reprimand softened by the concern etched on her face. “Stella, you really need to think this through. Twice, thrice… maybe even more,” she urged, her voice laced with a sisterly plea.
Stella, however, remained resolute. Her gaze unwavering, she replied with a quiet firmness that brooked no argument. “My mind is made up, Daisha.”
Daisha let out a long, slow breath, the air escaping her lungs in a visible sigh. She shook her head, a mixture of disbelief and acceptance playing across her features.
Flora stepped in to confirm. “So, it’s final then?” she asked, her voice laced with a hint of wonder.
Stella met her gaze, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. “You know me, Flora,” she replied, the words a testament to their long-standing friendship and mutual understanding.
Darrel, sensing a shift in the mood, attempted to lighten the atmosphere. “I’ll grab some beers,” he announced, reaching for the refrigerator.
But before he could even fully turn, Stella’s voice cut through the air, sharp and unexpected. “I’m not drinking tonight,” she stated, her tone firm and unwavering.
A collective gasp rippled through the group.
Daisha, her eyebrows raised in surprise, couldn’t help but exclaim, “Seriously? You love beer!”
Stella shook her head, her eyes avoiding their questioning gazes. “Not tonight,” she repeated, a hint of something unsaid coloring her words.
Brandon offered a knowing smirk, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Me neither,” he announced, raising both arms in mock surrender.
Tyros, his voice laced with disbelief, asked, “Wait, for real?”
Brandon nodded, a playful grin replacing his earlier smirk.
Darrel quickly intervened. “Okay, no beer for anyone tonight,” he declared, his voice firm but gentle.
The group efficiently cleaned the table, the clatter of dishes a rhythmic counterpoint to their quiet conversation.
Flora and Tyros volunteered to tackle the dishes, their movements synchronized by years of shared experiences.
Stella, meanwhile, retreated to the living room, the soft glow of the lamps casting a warm, inviting glow.
Daisha, her hand resting on Darrel’s arm, announced their departure. “We’re heading to bed,” she said softly, her voice filled with a quiet understanding.
“Goodnight,” Stella replied, her voice barely a whisper.
They disappeared down the hallway, leaving Stella alone with the quiet hum of the house.
Once the dishes were done, Tyros approached Stella, his voice carrying a hint of courteous inquiry. “Is there a spare room available?” he asked, his words polite but direct.
Stella, her gaze drifting across the spacious living room, nodded. “Plenty of rooms in this house,” she replied, a faint smile gracing her lips.
Tyros, his voice a low rumble, announced his departure. “I’ll wait for you in our room,” he said, his hand briefly resting on Flora’s shoulder before he turned and ascended the grand staircase, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet house.
Flora settled beside Stella, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Need some company, huh?” she teased, her voice light and playful.
Stella, unable to suppress a smile, replied, “Always, my dear friend.”
Their conversation, however, was abruptly interrupted.
Brandon, his presence as unexpected as always, materialized in the living room doorway. “Just passing through,” he announced, his voice nonchalant as he, too, headed upstairs, leaving Stella and Flora to exchange a knowing look.
Stella sighed, the weight of her decision settling heavily upon her.
Flora, sensing her friend’s apprehension, gently steered the conversation back on track. “So, Bryce… he thinks Brandon is his father, right?” she asked, her voice soft and understanding.
Stella nodded, her gaze distant, lost in thought. “I’ve decided to take him back to our land,” She announced, the words hanging in the air, surprising even herself.
Flora’s eyes widened in surprise. The implications of this decision were vast, stretching beyond the immediate concerns. “But what about… you know… the werewolf thing?” She asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Stella remained silent for a moment, the weight of the secret pressing down on her. “I don’t know how to explain that to him,” she finally admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and resignation.
Flora placed a comforting hand on Stella’s shoulder. “We can hide it for now,” she said, her voice firm and reassuring. “But he’s bound to get curious eventually,” she added, her words laced with a hint of inevitability.
Stella nodded, accepting the truth in her friend’s words. “I’ll tell him eventually,” She said, her voice resolute, “but not yet. Let’s rest,” she added, her voice tired but determined.
The next morning it dawned bright and clear.
Stella awoke to the sound of a small voice, cheerful and bright.
“Good morning, Mommy!” Bryce greeted her, his small arms wrapping around her neck in a hug.
“Good morning, my sweet,” Stella replied, returning his embrace.
They headed to the bathroom, the morning routine a familiar comfort. But as they washed their faces, a simple question shattered the calm.
“Mommy,” Bryce asked, his voice innocent and curious, “where’s Daddy?”
The question caught Stella completely off guard. She was caught off guard by Bryce’s persistent questioning, coughed to mask her sudden awkwardness. “He slept in another room, sweetie,” she replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Bryce, however, wasn’t easily dissuaded. “But why didn’t he sleep with us?” he pressed, his innocent question carrying a weight far beyond its simple phrasing.
Stella, her patience wearing thin, simply replied, “I don’t know,” and steered him towards the stairs.
Downstairs, the others were already gathered in the living room, their conversation a cheerful hum against the morning light.
Daisha broke the silence. “Picnic!” she declared, her voice brimming with enthusiasm.
“I know just the perfect spot,” Darrel added, his voice calm and reassuring.
Bryce, sensing the shift in mood, immediately chimed in, his small body practically vibrating with excitement. “I want a picnic, Mommy!” he exclaimed, a small jump punctuating his words.
Stella, relieved by the change in subject, smiled and ruffled Bryce’s hair. “Okay, picnic it is!” she agreed, her voice filled with a lightness she hadn’t felt moments before.
The preparations began, a flurry of activity as they gathered blankets, baskets, and various picnic essentials.
While Darrel and Daisha prepared the main course, Flora and Stella ventured to the grocery store for additional supplies.
Inside the store, Bryce’s eyes were immediately drawn to the chocolate section, his gaze lingering on the colorful wrappers.
Stella, noticing his longing look, playfully prompted him. “Go on, get some,” she said, her voice a mix of encouragement and playful indulgence.
Bryce, however, hesitated. “But it’s bad for my teeth,” he mumbled, his conscience clearly outweighing his desire.
Stella, understanding his concerns, compromised. “Just a little bit,” she said, her tone gentle and reassuring.
Bryce, his curiosity piqued, readily agreed.
As they stood in line at the checkout, a mid-40s woman, her eyes sharp and observant, approached Bryce. “Where’s your mother?” she asked, her voice direct and slightly accusatory.
Bryce, without hesitation, pointed towards Stella.
The woman, clearly confused, turned her attention to Stella, her expression a mixture of suspicion and disbelief. Leaning in conspiratorially, the woman whispered, “I know his mother,” her voice low and urgent.
“But she left him,” Stella answered back.
The woman, clearly unconvinced, pressed further. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone laced with doubt.
Stella, her patience wearing thin, simply rolled her eyes and nodded.
The woman, sensing Stella’s impatience, continued, “All I know is his mother had him because of her work,” she explained, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.
Stella, intrigued by the woman’s story, found herself drawn into a conversation that was far more complex than she had anticipated. Just then, she spotted Flora approaching. “Flora!” she called out, her voice sharp and urgent.
Flora, understanding the unspoken plea, immediately approached, extending her hand to Bryce. “Bryce, come with me, honey,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring.
Stella nodded her approval, a silent agreement passing between them as Bryce readily took Flora’s hand, leaving the curious woman and the unfolding mystery behind them. Her eyes widened, the implications of the woman’s words sinking in. “Are you saying his mother had him… unexpectedly?” she asked, her voice a hushed whisper.
The woman nodded, her expression grim. “Yeah,” she confirmed, her voice laced with a mixture of pity and judgment. “She couldn’t do what she wanted because of him. Maybe that’s why she left him,” she added, her words painting a bleak picture of abandonment and regret.
Stella shook her head, disbelief warring with a growing sense of unease. “Do you know where she lives?” She asked, her voice urgent.
The woman, without hesitation, nodded. She scribbled an address on a scrap of paper, her hand trembling slightly as she handed it to Stella.
Stella carefully tucked the precious piece of paper into her pocket. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and a burgeoning determination.
Just then, Flora reappeared, Bryce trailing happily behind her.
They paid for their groceries, the mundane act a stark contrast to the gravity of the information Stella now possessed.
Back at Darrel’s house, Stella pulled Brandon aside, her voice low and urgent. “I need to go somewhere,” she whispered, her eyes betraying her anxiety.
Brandon immediately responded, “Where are you going?”
“You don’t need to know,” Stella replied, her voice firm but gentle. “Just keep an eye on Bryce while I’m gone,” she added, her trust in him unwavering.
Brandon simply nodded, his expression a mixture of concern and unwavering support.
With Bryce securely buckled in the backseat, Stella and Brandon followed Darrel’s car, the journey a tense silence punctuated only by the gentle hum of the engine.
They arrived at a secluded pond, the tranquil setting a stark contrast to the turmoil in Stella’s heart. They parked the car, the quiet of the countryside enveloping them.
Stella leaned towards Brandon, her voice a hushed whisper. “Remember what I told you,” she reminded him, her eyes searching for reassurance.
“Always,” he replied, his voice a steady counterpoint to her anxiety.
As soon as they stepped out of the car, Stella knelt before Bryce, her voice soft and gentle. “Bryce, sweetie,” she began, her words carefully chosen. “I need to go somewhere. Your dad will be with you while I’m gone. Is that okay?”
Bryce, sensing the gravity of the situation, nodded, his small hand reaching up to hug Stella. “Come back soon, Mommy,” he whispered, his voice laced with a child’s inherent vulnerability.
Stella, her heart aching, hugged him tightly. “I will,” she promised, her voice thick with emotion. She offered a quick nod to Brandon, her eyes conveying a silent message of trust and urgency.
“Let’s go, big boy,” Brandon said, his voice a reassuring baritone as he extended his hand to Bryce.
The small boy, sensing the importance of the moment, readily took his hand, his small fingers gripping Brandon’s firmly.
Stella watched as they walked towards the edge of the pond, the tranquil setting a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation.
“Be safe,” Brandon called back, his voice a low murmur as he and Bryce disappeared from view, their figures swallowed by the lush greenery surrounding the water’s edge.
Stella returned to her car, the weight of her mission settling heavily upon her. She drove back towards the city, her mind racing as she navigated the familiar streets.
Following the directions the woman had provided, she eventually arrived at a modest house, its paint peeling and garden overgrown, a reflection of the neglect within. “Just a talk,” she muttered to herself, steeling her nerves before stepping out of the car.
She approached the house, her footsteps hesitant yet purposeful. She rang the doorbell, the sound echoing in the sudden silence.
The door creaked open, revealing a woman whose face was etched with a mixture of weariness and apprehension. “Who are you?” the woman asked, her voice guarded and suspicious.
Stella wasted no time in introductions. “Are you Matilda?” she asked, her voice direct and unwavering.
Matilda, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, scanned Stella from head to toe before replying, “Yeah, I am Matilda. Why?”
Stella’s question was blunt, cutting through the polite formalities. “Why did you do that to your son?” she demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of anger and sorrow.
Matilda, clearly taken aback, could only stare, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and guilt. She attempted to deflect, her voice defensive. “How did you find me?” she asked, her words a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation.
Stella simply smirked, her silence a powerful response. “Just answer my question,” She insisted, her voice firm but controlled.
The unwavering resolve in her tone finally broke Matilda’s composure. She looked away, tears welling up in her eyes. “I couldn’t give him what he needed,” she sobbed, her voice choking with emotion.
Stella, sensing a vulnerability beneath Matilda’s defensive exterior, pressed further. “Or maybe you couldn’t have what you wanted,” she countered, her words a subtle yet powerful accusation.
Matilda froze, the implication of Stella’s words sinking in. “Wait… what are you saying?” she asked, her voice trembling as she wiped away her tears.
Stella’s response was direct, leaving no room for misinterpretation. “I know why you left your son, Matilda,” she stated, her voice devoid of sympathy. “And you don’t deserve to be a mother,” she added, her words a final, damning judgment.
Matilda, her face a mask of stunned disbelief, could only stare, the weight of Stella’s accusation settling heavily upon her. Her face contorted with anger, began pacing, a desperate attempt to intimidate Stella.
“You think you can scare me?” Stella challenged, her voice unwavering, her gaze locked on Matilda’s.
Matilda, her eyes flashing, retorted, “Oh really?”
As if on cue, three burly men emerged from the house, their expressions menacing, their bodies poised for action.
“Get her!” Matilda barked, her command sharp and authoritative.
The men lunged, their movements swift and brutal.
But Stella was ready. With practiced ease, she deflected their attacks, her movements fluid and precise, her strength surprising.
Matilda watched, her jaw dropping in disbelief. “How… how did you do that?” she stammered, her earlier confidence shattered.
Stella, ignoring Matilda’s stunned silence, delivered a final, pointed message. “You shouldn’t treat your children like that,” she said, her voice laced with a quiet authority. “Let this be a lesson to you,” she added before turning and walking away, leaving Matilda to grapple with the consequences of her actions.
Meanwhile, near the pond, Brandon kept a watchful eye on Bryce, who was happily playing with other children.
Daisha, approaching cautiously, warned him, “Don’t take your eyes off him, or Stella will be furious.”
Darrel nodded to Brandon, joining Daisha as they headed towards the water’s edge.
Flora, noticing Brandon’s tense posture, sat beside him, her voice laced with concern. “Where did she go?” she asked, her eyes searching for his eyes.
Brandon, trying to maintain a nonchalant air, feigned ignorance. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, attempting to subtly conceal Stella’s whereabouts.
Flora, however, wasn’t easily fooled. “Really? You don’t know?” she pressed, her gaze unwavering.
Brandon, caught in his lie, could only nod, his eyes fixed on Bryce’s playful antics.
Suddenly, a car pulled up, Stella emerging from behind the wheel.
“Mommy!” Bryce shrieked, breaking free from his playmates and running towards her.
Stella opened her arms, embracing her son in a warm hug. “Did you miss me?” she asked, her voice soft and tender.
Bryce, his face beaming, nodded enthusiastically. “Let’s go swimming, Mommy!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Stella, glancing towards the pond, saw Daisha and Darrel already enjoying the water. “You need to change into your swimming clothes first,” she said, retrieving Bryce’s swimsuit.
Once Bryce was ready, they headed towards the pond.
Brandon, watching from a distance, followed discreetly. He approached Stella, his voice a low whisper. “Did you find her?” he asked, his eyes seeking confirmation.
Stella smiled, a hint of satisfaction in her eyes. “Yes,” she replied, “and I gave her a warning.”
Bryce, already splashing in the water, yelled, “Swimming!”
Brandon, seizing the opportunity, playfully shoved Stella into the water, his laughter echoing across the pond.
Stella, sputtering and surprised, emerged from the water, her hair plastered to her face. “What the-!” she exclaimed, her eyes playfully glaring at Brandon, the tension of the day momentarily forgotten in the joyful chaos of the afternoon.