Accidental Heir

CHAPTER FIVE

Amara's POV

Three Years Later.

Morning sunlight spilled through the thin curtains of our apartment, warming the space with a soft glow that made everything feel gentler than it really was. Zara was already awake, of course she was, singing something that sounded like a mix of the alphabet and a cartoon theme song while she colored aggressively on the living room floor.

Her little legs kicked back and forth, her tiny toes curling with excitement as she scribbled purple circles all over the page.

“Mommy, look!” she beamed, holding up the paper with pride.

I crouched beside her and kissed her cheek. “Wow. That’s… such a big imagination, sweetheart.”

“It’s a dragon,” she said.

“Oh! Obviously.” I nodded sagely.

She giggled so hard she snorted, and my heart melted for the thousandth time that morning.

This was our everyday routine, chaotic, messy, beautifully imperfect.

And I loved it.

I headed to the kitchen to pack her lunch, brushing crumbs off the counter and trying not to trip over the little pink shoes she’d kicked off somewhere between waking up and starting her artwork. Zara talked to herself while she colored, occasionally singing a dramatic “tra-la-laaaa” like she was performing for royalty.

“Mommy, can we have pancakes tomorrow?” she called out.

“Maybe,” I replied. “If you promise not to sneak out of bed at 3 a.m. again.”

“That was ONE time!”

“It was three times, Zara.”

A tiny silence.

“…I won’t do it again.”

I laughed under my breath.

This was my life.

Exhausting.

Nonstop.

But full, full in a way I hadn’t known I was missing until she arrived.

After getting her lunch packed, I kneeled to tie her shoes, well, tie one while she kicked the other foot like she was drumming.

Zara had my hair but none of my silence, my hesitations, or my caution. She was light. Loud. Bold. Wild. Everything I’d always admired but never embodied.

She was perfect.

“Ready for daycare?” I asked, standing up.

“Yes!” She bounced to her feet. “Aunty Liana said she’ll take me to the park today if I’m good.”

I snorted. “Define ‘good.’”

Zara grinned mischievously.

“Thought so,” I murmured.

By the time we stepped outside, the neighborhood was buzzing, schoolchildren running past, mothers shouting reminders, security guards waving good morning. The sun was warm, the breeze gentle, and Zara skipped ahead, her small hand tugging mine every time she wanted to hop over a c***k in the pavement.

At the daycare entrance, Ms. Tasha greeted us with a bright smile. “Good morning, my superstar!”

Zara ran to hug her legs.

“She’s full of energy today,” I said apologetically.

“She’s always full of energy, and we adore her,” Ms. Tasha laughed.

I kissed my daughter’s forehead. “Be good, okay?”

“I will!” she promised, then immediately ran inside.

The second she disappeared, a strange mix of relief and ache washed over me. Every day I left her felt like losing a piece of myself. But every day she learned something new, grew a little faster, became a little braver.

I walked to work, inhaling the morning air, letting the rhythm of footsteps on pavement calm me. My job wasn’t glamorous, marketing coordinator at a rising corporate agency, but it paid the bills, gave me stability, and allowed me to build a life for Zara.

A life I’d created from nothing but fear and determination.

Sometimes, late at night, I wondered what my life would look like if things had gone differently. If I’d found him. If he’d stayed. If he’d even wanted to.

Then I would look at Zara’s sleeping face, her lashes long, her lips parted slightly, and remember:

Everything I needed… I had it right here.

Still, there were days, rare but real, when I caught a glimpse of her profile, the tilt of her chin, the flare of her nose, and something inside me tightened.

She looked like him.

A little too much.

And I would lie to myself all over again, whispering that it didn’t matter, that the past was over, sealed, irrelevant.

I had no idea how wrong I was.