CHAPTER-TWENTY TWO

Eleven years ago….

The memories came rushing back, like shadows slipping from the dark corners of my mind—hidden, but never truly forgotten. It was the winter of my tenth year, and the orphanage was as bleak as ever. The walls were cold and lifeless, their chipped paints matching the despair that clung to the air. The other kids weren’t exactly cruel, but their indifference stung in its own way. I was used to being invisible—better that than the target of their whispered jokes.

That day, I sat in the farthest corner of the communal room, my gaze fixed on the frosted window pane. Outside, the world was muted under a dull gray sky, the kind of overcast that promised snow but rarely delivered. A light dusting of snow clung to the ground, but the air was too dry for much more.

When a sleek black Mercedes pulled into the driveway, it immediately caught my attention, and moments later, a woman stepped out, her every move radiating grace.

She wore a navy coat, cinched neatly at the waist, paired with cream gloves and a matching fedora, the hat slightly to one side. Her smile was dazzling, the kind that could light up even the dreariest day. I watched as the matron rushed outside, her high-pitched shriek of surprise slicing through the silence. She hugged the woman with an eagerness that could fool most people, but I saw through her charade. Wealthy visitors meant bigger donations for the orphanage, and our matron loved nothing more than to bask in their attention.

The women conversed lively, their words flowing effortlessly like they were old friends, and as they embraced, the elegant woman glanced up, her sharp eyes meeting mine through the window. She smiled. It wasn't pity or amusement—it was something else entirely, something I couldn't place.

For reasons I couldn't explain, I left my corner by the window and made my way to the stairs. Visitors usually came and went without much interest from me. I never cared about their polished shoes or the empty promises they made. But this woman was different. I had an urge to see her up close, to know who she was. A wild, impossible thought even flickered through my mind: Maybe she'll pick me.

Crouching at the top of the stairs, I strained to hear the conversation happening below. The matron’s voice floated up, tinged with both admiration and caution.

“....She'd barely made it out alive.”

“So I've heard. It’s all over the news. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You have such a kind heart, Mabel, but your husband—”

“To hell with him. This is his mess; the least I can do is fix it. I want to see her. Where is she?”

“She’s in the communal room. Mabel, do you want to..?”

“I wish I could take her, Sarah, but you know how Klaus is. I still haven’t told him about our son, and I don’t plan to. He would freak out.”

I sucked in a sharp breath, unsure if I had misheard. Their voices lowered, but I caught enough to understand.

“Jeez, Mabel, he must be sixteen by now. Don't you think they deserve to know?”

“As a friend, I’m worried about you,” the matron added, her tone softening, “but as the orphanage’s caretaker, I think it’s better this way. The child will get all the love he deserves without any….complications. I admire your courage. Because if this comes out, it won't just destroy your marriage—it'll ruin the child's life. Your life.”

“I know, Sarah,” Mabel replied with a weary sigh. “But I couldn't go home empty-handed again. Klaus only married me because of the pregnancy. After two miscarriages, a third one would have been the final straw. It would only be a matter of time before he starts looking for someone else. No one still knows about this, right?”

“No one,” the matron assured her. “The midwife has been taken care of, and the boy's mother is no longer in the picture. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you, Sarah. You’re the only person I can trust.”

Their conversation shifted, the sound of footsteps drawing closer.

“She's in shock,” the matron said. “The poor child barely speaks.”

“Poor thing,” Mabel murmured. Pity laced her words, and it ignited a flicker of anger in me. I hated pity.

They reached the base of the stairs before I realized I'd been eavesdropping for too long. Their eyes fell on me simultaneously. The matron's face hardened into a scowl, but Mabel's lit up with that same radiant smile.

“Hi, darling,” she said, her voice warm and inviting. “I’m Mabel Maddison. What’s your name?”

Mabel had become a regular visitor to the orphanage every weekend for two months now, and although she didn't know it, I'd begun looking forward to the weekends just so I could spend time with her. That is, until the news of our matron's tragic death.

Dressed in black, ready to head to the funeral grounds, I stood by the corner of the window, where I'd first seen Mabel, hoping to see her car pull into the driveway. It wasn't a weekend, but at least our matron had been her friend.

One of the warders told us it had been an accident—her car had been crashed into by a truck. But something inside me twisted with doubt. There was a gnawing feeling that it wasn't just a random accident. I couldn't shake the thought that it had been planned, and the only person I knew who might benefit from our matron's death was Mabel. But if Mabel showed up to offer her condolences, her body language would tell me if I was right.

I clutched my skirt tightly as I climbed into our orphanage bus. Still, no sign of the black Mercedes. I tried to convince myself that Mabel couldn't be a bad person. Even though I hadn't been exactly fond of our matron, I would never wish anyone dead.

After the burial ceremony, I sat against a tree, exhausted from the day's event. My back pressed against the tree's rough bark, waiting for the bus to take us back. That's when I saw her. Mabel, making her way toward me, her eyes red from crying. Her once perky, cheerful demeanor seemed to have faded, replaced with a hollow sorrow that seeped into every part of her, even her clothing.

I forced a smile, despite the turmoil in my chest, just to lift her spirits. Mabel managed a thin smile, her lips trembling slightly as she sat beside me. Her sadness was contagious, yet I couldn't shake off the suspicion growing inside me.

“I'm sorry, Mabel,” I said softly, placing my small hand on hers, hoping the gesture might bring her some comfort.

She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, letting out a dry, sorrowful laugh. “It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay.” She pulled me into a tight hug, her sobs muffled against my hair as she whispered. “I had to…she was scaring me by always bringing it up. But she wasn't supposed to die…just lose her memory or something.”

I froze, my blood running cold as I tried to steady my breathing. She didn't know that I knew, and I didn't want her to realize I'd figured it out. I fought the urge to pull away, to ask her what she meant, but the words stuck in my throat.

She pulled back, locking eyes with me, her gaze filled with something darker. “I'm sorry, I can't adopt you—not with the mess I have going on with my husband right now—and it kills me everyday. But I promise you, I'll find a good foster home for you. I'll make sure you're well taken care of. And when you're older, if you ever want to find me again, I'll be here. I'll take care of you.”

I nodded stiffly, forcing myself to keep my face composed, my emotions locked away. I didn't trust her, not completely. And yet, a small part of me wanted to believe in her promises.

“I'm going to stop visiting the orphanage,” she continued, her voice steady but the strain evident in her eyes. “But I'll keep in touch with the authorities here until I'm sure you've been adopted by a good family. Just remember, when you grow up, you can find me again, but for now…promise me you won't ever speak of this conversation, or anything between me and Sarah. It's our secret. Just keep observing like you always do. Everyone has a secret. That's how you survive.”

Her words stuck to me like tar, each one heavier than the last. She placed a kiss on my head, handing me an envelope that felt like a weight too heavy for my hands.

“Keep this in your jacket,” she whispered. “And when you get back to the orphanage, put it in your savings box. Just in case things don't go as planned, and you have to escape.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled, barely able to speak as I took the swollen envelope.

Mabel gave me one last genuine smile, before standing up. Her eyes were dry now, the sadness replaced with the same practiced mask of composure she always wore. She turned to leave, her heels clicking softly against the gravel. But then, she stopped, casting one final glance at me as her car pulled up.

“I hope one day you and my son can become friends.” She said, her voice barely above a whisper, laced with something like a promise.

And just like that, she was gone.