SHADOW : The Man Behind The Screen

Chapter 1 - Chaos

School breaks always bring chaos into my household.

Having a seven-year-old and a toddler running around the house is enough to drive anyone insane. Juggling house chores, parenting, and work without any help has taken a toll on both my physical and mental health.

"Get some rest."

I chuckled as I remembered the advice some of my friends always gave me.

Rest?

Hell yeah.

Good luck with that.

After my divorce two years ago, my ex-husband disappeared completely, leaving me with two kids, debts, and a mountain of responsibilities.

My former in-laws blamed me. According to them, it was my fault for not helping my ex enough financially. They said he had left me for someone with status. Someone better.

Ten years of marriage with him had never been rainbows and unicorns.

We were not the type of couple who screamed at each other during arguments. We rarely fought at all.

But neglect.

Ignorance.

Those things spoke much louder than raised voices ever could.

Sometimes he would come home and head straight to bed without asking how my day had been.

There were countless times when he ignored me while I was sick. He never offered to help with the kids, let alone the house chores.

Sometimes, when the house became a mess because I was too ill to get out of bed, he would simply leave again. Maybe he was having dinner with his friends. Maybe he was back at his parents' house.

I never knew.

Sometimes I would spend an entire evening waiting for him to notice a new haircut.

He never did.

Looking back, maybe our marriage didn't end the day he left.

Maybe it had ended long before that.

My thoughts were interrupted by a piercing cry from my youngest child, Zarra.

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Oh God. What now?"

Pulling myself together, I headed toward the playroom where she had been playing with her older brother, Zayn.

"What's wrong, honey?" I asked, forcing my voice into its sweetest tone.

She was only three.

They were just children.

They had already lost a father figure.

I didn't want them to feel like they had lost anything else.

"She wanted all the toys for herself," Zayn said with a sigh.

I glanced at the clock hanging on the wall.

Past two o'clock.

No wonder.

It was their nap time.

Zayn had always been the quieter one.

While other boys his age spent their afternoons chasing footballs, my son preferred books and puzzles.

He loved reading so much that he had taught himself to read by the age of three and a half. He would read anything he could get his hands on. Children's storybooks, science magazines, academic articles, product catalogues.

Nothing bored him when it came to words.

We even had a reading corner in the living room where we gathered almost every night before bed. Sometimes we sat together in comfortable silence, each lost in our own book. Other times, we took turns reading aloud.

Zarra, on the other hand, was chaos wrapped in pink pajamas.

She was cheerful, energetic, and endlessly curious. Every day came with a hundred questions.

Why is the sky blue?

Why do cats have whiskers?

Why can't I eat ice cream for breakfast?

Her curiosity often made her seem older than her three years.

Different as they were, both of them were my entire world.

"Hmm... how about we turn off the lights and switch on the starry lamp?" I suggested, hoping to redirect their attention.

Honestly, I could use a nap myself.

"Okay, Mama," Zarra replied between sniffles before wrapping her tiny arms around me.

Judging by her droopy eyes, she was exhausted.

I closed the curtains, switched off the lights, and turned on the starry projector that scattered tiny stars across the ceiling. Soft white-noise music filled the room.

A foam mattress occupied one corner of the playroom, making it the perfect spot for afternoon naps.

This room used to be a storage room.

After my ex left, he took almost everything with him.

Every.

Single.

Thing.

Leaving the house nearly empty.

Nice.

That was what I had told myself back then.

Eventually, I embraced minimalism.

Less clutter. Less maintenance.

Within minutes, both children had fallen asleep.

As I was about to drift off myself, my phone buzzed inside my pocket.

I jolted awake and cursed under my breath.

Ever since the divorce, sleep had become a luxury. Falling asleep at night was difficult enough. A daytime nap was almost impossible.

Even five minutes of sleep felt precious.

I unlocked my phone and opened w******p.

"Maybe a customer," I murmured.

I had been running an online business since my university days, and thankfully, it had grown enough to support us.

My online store started as a hobby during university.

Selling skincare products and accessories brought me so much joy. I loved all things beauty and fashion, and making handmade jewellery was especially therapeutic. I could spend hours sitting at my work table, completely lost in the process.

Back then, it was nothing more than a source of extra pocket money. It paid for little treats during weekends, souvenirs from university trips, and the occasional splurge without having to ask my parents for money.

Now, it paid the bills, bought groceries, and kept a roof over our heads.

In a way, it had become more dependable than my marriage ever was.

But the message wasn't from a customer.

The sender was unknown.

And the message contained only two simple words.

Hi, beautiful.

I frowned.

Wrong number.

Probably.

Who else would send a message like that to me?

Certainly not my ex-husband.

And definitely not any of my customers.

For a brief moment, I wondered if one of my friends was trying to pull a prank on me. But, what for?

I rolled my eyes and was about to put my phone away when another notification buzzed.

I groaned. Again?

Seriously?

I unlocked the screen.

The same number.

Can we talk?