Problems Ongoing

Chapter 1 – The Night It Began

Rain fell without mercy.

It hammered against the pavement, soaked through clothes, and turned the quiet street into a blur of shadows and streetlight reflections. At the edge of a long driveway leading up to a massive estate, a couple stood—hesitant, shaken.

The woman clutched a small woven basket, her hands trembling.

“Are you sure?” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the storm.

The man didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the towering mansion ahead—warm lights glowing behind tall windows, a life they knew they could never give.

“We don’t have a choice.”

Carefully, almost gently, they placed the basket at the front door. The baby inside stirred slightly but didn’t cry.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, as if afraid they might change their minds, they turned—and ran. Their footsteps disappeared into the storm, swallowed by the sound of rain.

Silence returned.

Minutes passed.

Then the door opened.

A tall blonde woman stepped out, pulling a shawl tightly around herself as she frowned at the weather. She had heard something—something out of place.

Her gaze dropped.

The basket.

Confusion flickered across her face as she stepped closer. “Hello?” she called softly, but there was no answer.

Only rain.

She hesitated… then bent down and lifted the cover.

Inside, wrapped in soft cloth, was a baby girl. Peacefully asleep. Unaware of the storm, the abandonment… the world she had just been left to face.

The woman’s expression changed instantly.

“Oh my God…”

She scooped the child into her arms without thinking, shielding her from the rain as she hurried back inside.

“David!” she called out.

Footsteps approached quickly. A tall man appeared, concern written across his face. “What is it—?”

He stopped when he saw the baby.

They stood there for a moment, both staring, both trying to understand what they were looking at.

“Someone left her,” the woman said quietly. “At our door.”

The man exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “In this weather…?”

The baby stirred slightly, her tiny hand curling against the woman’s chest.

And just like that, something shifted.

The woman looked up at her husband, her voice softer now—but certain.

“We can’t leave her.”

He studied the child… then nodded.

“No,” he said. “We can’t.”

That night, they gave her a name.

Nia.

Fourteen Years Later

The house was no longer quiet.

Laughter echoed through its halls—though not all of it was kind.

Nia stood at the top of the staircase, watching as her younger siblings passed by her without a glance. Or worse—with looks that carried something sharper than indifference.

Resentment.

She had grown into everything her parents had hoped for—intelligent, composed, and quietly exceptional. Awards lined her room. Teachers praised her. People noticed her.

And that was exactly the problem.

Because in a house full of privilege, attention was a currency.

And Nia had too much of it.

Still… her parents never treated her differently. If anything, they held her a little closer.

Maybe they remembered the storm.

Maybe they never forgot the night she almost had nothing.

“Are you coming with us?” her mother asked later that evening, grabbing her purse.

Nia shook her head. “I’ll stay. I have work to finish.”

Her father smiled. “Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I won’t.”

Her siblings didn’t say a word as they walked out.

The door closed behind them.

And just like that, the house fell silent again.

Hours later, the phone rang.

And everything changed.