Chapter Thirteen - Too Familiar
1111 Words
Damien arrived at Amara’s house the next morning just after eight.
He had barely slept. Most of the night had gone into calls, instructions, and quiet arrangements. Two trusted security men were already positioned nearby, careful enough not to draw attention. He had insisted on that. The last thing he wanted was strangers frightening the children.
Amara opened the door before he knocked.
“You came early.”
“You said someone was watching.”
Her face was tired. She had not slept either.
He stepped inside.
The house was small but warm. Modest furniture. A low shelf with children’s books. Drawings taped to the wall. A school bag dropped near the chair. Nothing in the room looked staged. It felt lived in.
For a moment something unexpectedly private moved through him.
He could see her here.
Not the guarded woman from boardrooms or hotel parking lots.
Just Amara.
“Mum, who is it?”
Ethan appeared in the doorway.
He had just finished dressing for school. His shirt was slightly crooked. His hair looked as though he had tried to fix it himself.
The boy stopped when he saw Damien.
“Good morning,” Damien said.
Ethan studied him for half a second before answering.
“Good morning, sir.”
Maya ran in after him, clutching a doll.
“Is he the car man?”
Amara closed her eyes briefly.
“Maya.”
“What? He brought a big car.”
Damien almost smiled.
“That is accurate.”
The little girl brightened.
“I like big cars.”
“That is also obvious,” Ethan muttered.
Maya frowned at him.
“I heard that.”
For the first time since entering the house, Damien laughed quietly.
The children stared.
“What?” Maya asked.
“Nothing,” he said. “You’re both very observant.”
Amara was watching him carefully.
The sight unsettled her. She could feel it.
He belonged too naturally in the room.
“I’ll walk them to school,” she said.
“You shouldn’t.”
“I always do.”
“Then I’m coming.”
Her expression sharpened.
“That’s not necessary.”
“It is.”
They held each other’s gaze for a second.
Then Ethan said quietly, “Can we just go before Maya starts another war?”
Maya gasped.
“I do not start wars.”
“You started one over biscuits yesterday.”
“That was justice.”
Damien looked away to hide another smile.
The walk to school felt strangely normal.
A few women in the street noticed the black car parked nearby. A couple of neighbors looked openly curious. Amara ignored them.
Ethan walked beside Damien for part of the way.
He was quieter than Maya, but Damien had begun noticing something else. The boy watched everything.
He watched corners.
Cars.
People.
Even silence.
“How old are you?” Damien asked.
“Eleven.”
“You like school?”
“Sometimes.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I like learning,” Ethan said. “I just don’t always like people.”
Damien glanced at him.
“That’s unusually honest.”
“It saves time.”
That startled him.
The boy did not say much after that.
But Damien felt something tightening quietly inside him.
Not recognition.
Something deeper.
Something that felt almost physical.
At the school gate, Maya reached for Amara’s hand.
Ethan stayed where he was.
“Thank you,” he said to Damien.
“For what?”
“For coming.”
The words were simple.
Yet they landed harder than they should have.
“You’re welcome.”
The children disappeared through the gate.
For a moment neither adult spoke.
Then Amara turned to him.
“You shouldn’t get used to this.”
“To what?”
“To acting like part of our lives.”
The words were calm, but defensive.
“I’m here because you asked for help.”
“I asked for protection.”
“And I’m giving it.”
“No,” she said quietly. “You’re getting closer.”
He looked at her steadily.
“Does that frighten you?”
Her silence answered.
He stayed through the afternoon.
He took calls outside. Spoke with security. Checked the street twice himself.
Nothing obvious.
That almost bothered him more.
By late afternoon the children were back.
Maya had drawn on one hand with blue marker.
Ethan had a notebook tucked under one arm.
“Did anything happen?” Amara asked.
“No,” Ethan said. “Except Maya traded half her lunch for sweets.”
“It was a good deal,” Maya argued.
“It was bread.”
“It was still a good deal.”
While Amara took Maya inside to wash up, Ethan remained near the doorway.
“You don’t look like a bodyguard,” he said.
Damien turned toward him.
“What do I look like?”
“A man who asks a lot of questions.”
“That sounds familiar.”
Ethan hesitated.
Then he said, “Mum gets nervous when you’re around.”
The bluntness surprised him.
“Does that bother you?”
“A little.”
“Why?”
“Because she only gets nervous when something matters.”
The words landed with quiet force.
For a moment Damien forgot to answer.
“You notice a lot.”
“I told you.”
“Yes,” Damien said. “You did.”
Maya came running back into the room.
“Come outside!”
“No running,” Amara called from the kitchen.
Maya ignored that completely.
The children rushed toward the small front yard.
Damien followed more slowly.
The evening light had softened. Somewhere nearby a radio was playing. A woman at the next compound was hanging clothes.
Maya chased a ball across the narrow patch of ground.
“Ethan, catch!”
He moved after it.
The ball rolled toward Damien.
He bent, picked it up, and tossed it back.
Ethan reached for it.
His sleeve slid up.
Damien froze.
There, just below the boy’s wrist.
A small dark birthmark.
Half-moon shaped.
His pulse stopped for a second.
He knew that mark.
He had seen it before.
On his grandfather.
On Adrian.
On himself.
Family.
His eyes lifted slowly to Ethan’s face.
The boy was laughing at something Maya had said.
Unaware.
The world around Damien seemed to narrow.
“Mister?”
Ethan was looking at him now.
“You okay?”
Damien could barely hear the question.
His gaze dropped once more to the mark.
Impossible.
And suddenly, for the first time, the thought came with terrifying clarity.
What if Ethan is mine?
- Writer
