Layla
As I descended the plane's ramp, I felt like I was floating on clouds. The sun kissed my cheeks with a warm, golden glow, and I could swear that if I listened hard enough, I would hear birds chirping in joyful harmony. Nothing, absolutely nothing could ruin this perfect day.
I was happy.
Why you might ask.
Well, I am on my way to see my baby boy.
My mind was entirely filled with visions of his baby-soft skin, that intoxicating scent of innocence and powder that no memory could fully capture, the way he melted into my arms like warm putty. I couldn't wait another second to see my son, Aven.
He had no idea I was coming. No one did. I had a little mischevious streak and that meant that I loved surprises, the kind that lit up faces and mended hearts, and I had orchestrated this one meticulously. I had begged, bartered, worked long nights and burned every favor at Savant Factories just to snag time off for his birthday party. Six months apart felt like an eternity; today, I would make it right.
Clutching the bulging bag of gifts, I hurried through the bustling airport, my heels clicking with purpose. A sleek black car waited curbside, purring like a contented panther, and whisked me straight toward the Savant Estate.
As the sprawling grounds came into view, those looming iron gates etched with the family crest pierced the horizon like a warning and my buoyant mood flickered, threatening to dim. The estate wasn't a home, it loomed like a frigid dungeon, all cold stone and echoing halls, designed to awe and intimidate rather than welcome. Worse, every visit dredged up the same depressing feeling: the Savants' relentless campaign to make me feel small, unworthy. They never missed a beat, sneering that I snagged their golden boy by plotting and only because their "senile" patriarch had forced the match. Grandfather Savant, though? He was the sweetest, kindest soul alive, with eyes that twinkled like he saw straight through their venom.
The car glided through the gates, and I straightened my spine, mentally preparing.
'This is for Aven,' I reminded myself fiercely. Whatever humiliation they hurled, I would swallow it for him. A mother's love was armor enough.
But fate had other plans. The moment my foot crossed the foyer threshold, Marcia materialized like an evil spectre. Her perfectly coiffed hair framed a face twisted in disdain, her designer blouse straining against her rigid posture as she sneered down her aquiline nose at me.
I stifled a sigh. There must be some invisible alarm for lowborn intruders, I thought wryly. Or more likely, her army of spying maids, whispering my arrival like a state secret.
"Look what the cat dragged in," Marcia snorted, her voice dripping with dismissal as she sauntered closer, heels stabbing the marble like daggers.
I stood her ground, unmoving, as we had danced this toxic tango countless times. Marcia's barbs were predictable as clockwork.
"You're gone so long, I almost forgot I had the misfortune of being tethered to you," she hissed, circling me like a vulture. "Why don't you just give my son a divorce and let the rest of us breathe easy? We all know you're only here for the money, the scraps from our table."
I met her icy gaze with a serene smile knowing that nothing would infuriate her more.
"It's Aven's birthday, Marcia. More than anything, I want it to be a magical day for him."
She hissed, a long venomous sound that echoed off the ceilings before whirling away in a huff, her perfume trailing like a toxic fog. I watched her go, shoulders tense.
She wasn't entirely wrong. Divorce would free us all, free me from the burden of a husband i never saw and who did not recognize me as a wife, free me from this pathetic farce of a marriage.
No one even knew we were married; Nathaniel hated me with a fire that scorched every interaction. Their union was a mistake, a paper chain forged by his grandfather's dying wish. Nathan saw me as the scheming interloper who had bewitched the old man into this nightmare. Not a flicker of warmth, not an ounce of affection, just cold contempt.
Yet I remained because i had one task, fighting for my son. I had since realized that waiting for Nathan's love was futile, Aven was the onl person that mattered.
Shaking off the shadows, I pushed into the ballroom, sleeves rolled up, determination blazing. A few hours of sweat later when I stepped back, hands on hips, admiring my handiwork. Ribbons cascaded like waterfalls in Aven's favorite blue and yellow, balloons bobbed like cheerful clouds, and confetti shimmered across every surface, a wonderland fit for a prince.
The double doors burst open then, and in barreled Aven, his tiny legs pumping, smile as bright and infectious as sunshine. He squealed, twirling in place to drink in the magic, eyes wide with delight.
Then his gaze landed on me. The joy dimmed, his little body freezing mid-spin.
"Baby, won't you say hi to Mommy?" I cooed softly, dropping to my knees and opening my arms, drawing him close.
I buried my face in his tousled hair, inhaling that heavenly scent that filled me with fierce, all-consuming love that made everything worth it. But as the warmth bloomed in my chest, I realized Aven wasn't hugging back. His small frame stayed rigid in my arms.
"Baby, what's wrong?" SheI murmured, pulling back to search his sullen face, so heartbreakingly like his father's, stubborn jaw, piercing green eyes.
"I thought you weren't gonna come," he pouted, lower lip quivering.
My heart cracked. Six months, the longest we had ever been apart. I tried her best to call every morning before school, whispering stories through the phone, but it wasn't the same as when it had been just us two.
At three, he'd been whisked away from me to the elite preparatory school six generations of Savants had attended. It had been a traumatic experience for us both and two years later i was yet to recover.
I had begged to relocate despite the bad memories Port Saint held for me, but Alex dismissed it as another ploy to worm my way into his life. So I had stayed away, missing one birthday. This one? I wouldn't miss.
Gently cupping his cheeks, I locked eyes with him, willing him to feel my truth. "I'm so sorry I haven't been around, sweetheart. Mommy's trying her best, okay? I brought presents you'll love! Now, go upstairs, get ready for your party, and we'll celebrate big."
Aven blinked, then turned wordlessly and toddled out, leaving me with a satisfied smile. He was sure to forgive me when he ripped into those gifts.
"Ma'am, you should get ready too," a maid said timidly from the doorway. "Guests will arrive soon."
"You're right. Thank you." I gave the room one last proud glance before heading to my assigned room.
By the time I descended in a demure cream skirt suit elegant, understated I heard the murmur of arriving guests.
'Will Nathan show?'
I wondered, scanning the crowd. Usually he fled my presence like the plague but since he did not know I was around he probably would come. It stung less now, woven into the fabric of my pathetic life: a husband repulsed by his own wife.
Then I spotted Aven, dashing and dapper in his miniature tuxedo, curls tamed just so. Tears pricked my eyes unbidden. I hurried over, enveloping him in a hug.
He stiffened at first, then, shriek! the sound shattered the air, nearly bursting my eardrums.
"Daddy!!! Celine!!!"
With an almost superhuman strength, Aven wriggled free and bolted toward the entrance.
I rose slowly, it registered to me at that point that my son had a world that did not really include me. I had barely gotten a hug but he had almost toppled me over to get to Celine.
Myheart twisted like a knife as I watched my son crash excitedly into the arms of the honestly overdressed woman, her crimson gown screaming for attention at a child's party.
Celine. And trailing behind her, cool as marble, my husband, Nathan.