His Father's Eyes
756 Words
Chapter 4
The warm smell of spaghetti and garlic bread drifted through the small apartment, wrapping the air in a comfort Ariella had built from scratch. The living room was barely big enough for a couch and Liam’s toy bin, but it was theirs. Every photo on the wall, every pillow on the floor—it all had meaning.
Ariella stirred the sauce, humming softly as she glanced at the clock. 6:37 p.m.
Right on time, the door burst open.
“Mama, I’m home!”
Her heart lifted at the sound.
Liam dropped his backpack by the door with a dramatic thud, kicked off his sneakers in opposite directions, and raced into the kitchen. His curls bounced with every step.
She turned just in time to catch him in her arms.
“There’s my dragon tamer,” she laughed, spinning him once before settling him on her hip.
He grinned up at her. “We painted a castle today. Miss Robin said mine looked like a real one! I even gave it a moat.”
“A moat?” she asked with a playful gasp. “That’s fancy.”
He nodded proudly. “With crocodiles!”
Ariella laughed and set him down, handing him a small bowl of chopped fruit to munch on while she finished dinner.
Liam climbed onto the kitchen stool, kicking his legs under the counter. “Mama, did you work with rich people today?”
She blinked, surprised. “Why would you ask that?”
He shrugged. “You wore your nice shoes this morning. The ones that hurt your toes.”
Ariella smiled, touched and amused. “Yes, I did. I started my new job today.”
“Did you like it?”
She paused.
Did she? Could she ever?
“I liked that it helps take care of us,” she said carefully. “That’s what matters.”
Liam chewed slowly, watching her with that same serious expression he always got when he was trying to read her. He had his father’s eyes—stormy gray, deep, intelligent. It was uncanny. Some days, when Liam tilted his head or furrowed his brow just right, it felt like looking straight into Damien’s face.
Ariella’s stomach twisted. She didn’t know how long she could keep Damien and Liam from ever crossing paths. But tonight, she could pretend they lived in a world where the past didn’t hang over them.
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After dinner, Liam tugged her toward the couch with his favorite blanket trailing behind him like a cape.
“Storytime?” he asked, wide-eyed.
“You pick,” she said, grabbing the worn hardcover from the stack beside the couch.
He climbed into her lap and curled against her chest, blanket over both their legs. As she began reading about a prince who wanted to become a baker instead of a king, Liam’s giggles filled the air like music.
Halfway through the book, his fingers found hers and held tight.
“Are you happy, Mama?” he asked, out of nowhere.
She blinked down at him, caught off guard. “Why do you ask that?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes you smile like this—” he scrunched his face dramatically “—but your eyes look sad.”
Tears stung at the corners of hers before she could blink them away.
She wrapped her arms tighter around him. “I’m happy because I have you. That’s the truest thing I know.”
He beamed, satisfied with that answer, then yawned against her chest.
She stroked his curls gently, her voice soft. “I love you, Liam. More than anything. You’re my heart.”
His breathing slowed as he slipped into sleep, his cheek pressed against her shoulder. She sat still, watching him, memorizing the shape of his face. The curve of his jaw was already taking after Damien’s. The eyes, definitely Damien’s. But the gentle soul? That was all hers.
And yet, the resemblance couldn’t be denied.
She didn’t know what the future would bring—how long she could keep their world safe from the truth. But one thing was certain:
Liam deserved to know one day. And Damien deserved to see what he had unknowingly given to the world.
But not now.
Now, she kissed her son’s forehead and whispered again, “For you, I’ll keep going. No matter what.”
And somewhere deep in her chest, beneath the love and exhaustion, the fear and longing, a storm continued to build—quiet for now, but impossible to outrun.
- Writer
