Love Beyond Riches

Chapter 3: "The Hope"

Nine years have passed since I last set my eyes on Ella. I was told to come back to the hospital, but I wasn't even given the opportunity to see my Ella.

The doctor informed me that my Ella is okay and that she has been taken away by the office of the Prime Minister. I visited Mrs. Stella, and she said I no longer have access to my daughter.

You were informed before that Ella would be taken from you; that was her word to me that day.

Your daughter is in good hands since you can't afford to take care of her, and she's so precious to us, so you can leave. That voice has haunted me for the past nine years.

A pain shot through my chest at the thought of her name. Ella, Ella, Ella. Would I ever find you? Where could you be? What would she think of me for leaving her? Would I ever set my eyes on her again? I loved and missed her so much. The questions made my head hurt, and I felt the migraine return with a vengeance every time I thought about her. My head felt like it was being crushed under a thousand boulders.

I couldn't even afford to pay my house rent. I usually earned pennies from the cleaning job I do, but that couldn't even feed me, let alone pay my rent.

Life can be so unpleasant sometimes, but that isn't a reason to give up.

I woke up with a start, breathing heavily and with puffy eyes. Had I cried myself to sleep again? Apparently, I had. I usually tried not to sleep at all; the less I slept, the fewer nightmares I had. It would always be the same thing time and time again. I had been experiencing nightmares about the night of the incident.

I pulled the robe around myself, noticing that I was weeping in my silk nightgown. Tears rolled down my cheeks; this was my last day in this house. My clothes, shoes— all of it had been perfectly packed in boxes. I laughed bitterly to myself as I remembered I had nowhere to go. Considering where to go has been my biggest problem. I couldn't afford my house rent, and I was told to evacuate the house.

I walked up to the balcony attached to my room and took in the fresh morning air. It was around six in the morning, the time by which I was usually awake. Mist enveloped everything and made my surroundings look cold and dreary, almost lifeless. Every day I woke up hoping that something would change in my life, that I would find my daughter and that my husband would come back to life; that something miraculous would happen.

My heart stopped. My first thought? Let me call Peter; he got married into a rich family and is the daughter of a popular CEO. He lives with his wife in a big mansion, so I should be able to find a place to stay. For some time now, tears have been rolling down my cheeks as I remembered the beautiful life I had with my husband and daughter. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Two hours later, I took my luggage that had been packed into the box and headed to Peter's place. Peter had been the one and only brother I had; our mother gave birth to the two of us only. With a determined look on my face, I left the house for Peter's place. I entered Peter's house only to find the living room in complete and utter apocalyptic condition.

Everything was turned inside out, and everything that could potentially be destroyed had been reduced to pieces. Lamps were broken, vases shattered, paintings strewn across the floor, and cushions ripped open.

In the middle of it stood Elena, looking absolutely murderous, and when her eyes found me, her rage, if it was possible, increased tenfold.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Elena said. To be completely honest, I was terrified. She looked so angry, so furious, that it automatically sent a chill down my spine.

I began to walk back, retreating carefully so as not to attract attention, but I wasn't careful enough. Elena caught up to me before I could make it back out of their house, grabbing my arm and pushing me against the wall.

"She's my sister," Peter shouted, standing opposite Elena. "Elena, she is my sister; she does not have anywhere to stay, that's why she's here," he said quietly.

"Shut up! Shut the hell up!" she all but yelled at Peter, and I instinctively closed my eyes, terrified of what was going to come out.

"Who asked you to bring your sister to my house? You are wretched in your family; you wouldn't even afford paying house rent, and now your sister is here. Why do you think I married you?" she said to Peter, moving closer to him.

"I only married you so that you can help me with chores. You are broke; you are wretched; you are poor. Send your sister out of my house now."

"Please allow me to stay here for some time; I will work hard and gather money so I can get my own accommodation," I said to her, in a pitiful manner.

"I said you should leave my house now; you stink! Peter, I will send you and your so-called sister out now if you do not send her out. I don't want to see her in my house!" These were her words to me. The words hit me so badly, it was a pain in my throat. With my box in my hand, I stepped out of her house.

Peter followed me out; I stayed on the balcony. "Your wife has sent me out, and I don't have anywhere to stay," I said to him. Peter said he was going to beg her on my behalf so she could allow me to stay since I had nowhere to stay. "Don't worry; let me leave; I will sort myself out," I said to Peter, even though I had nowhere to stay.

Everything seemed muddled and confusing, and I began to worry myself into insanity: If my husband were alive, this wouldn't have happened to me. "You can go back inside before your wife starts yelling," I said to Peter; my voice sounded cracked.

I was sitting alone by the side of the road after Elena had sent me out of her house. I felt lost, with nowhere to go and no idea where I would lay my head that night.

As I sat there, deep in thought, I noticed a little girl struggling to pick up her school bag that had fallen onto the road. Just then, a car came speeding toward her, its horn blaring. The girl tried to get up, but she stumbled and fell back onto the pavement. Without thinking, I jumped up and ran toward her. I scooped her into my arms and pulled her out of the way. Just as the car sped past us, it narrowly missed her.

My heart was racing. I was terrified. I thought she might be hurt.

But she looked up at me with wide eyes and said softly, "Thank you, Mum, for saving me. You came to save me."

Stunned, I asked her, "What’s your name?"

She looked at me and said, "My name is Olivia."

"How old are you?" I asked gently, playfully brushing her cheeks.

"I’m ten years old," she said with a bright smile.

Immediately, a thought struck me: my Ella will be ten now too.

As I stood there quietly, lost in that realization, a woman, her neighbor I assumed, called out, "Olivia, let’s go. Your dad must be waiting for you."

Olivia stood up and suddenly slipped off a small watch from her wrist. Handing it to me, she said, "Let me give you this watch. You can call me with it. I want you to come visit my dad; he’ll want to thank you for helping me. And I want you to be my mum. I don’t have a mum."

Tears welled up in my eyes. I knelt down, dusted off her clothes gently, and said with a smile, "Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t have to give me anything."

"Byeeeee!" she called, already running off toward her neighbor, waving as she went.