For ten years, I thought I’d buried the past. But when a little girl with familiar eyes answered the door, I knew—I was here to take back what was mine.
I rang the doorbell, steady but with racing thoughts. A small girl with chestnut hair and curious eyes appeared, her face strikingly familiar. My heart clenched.
“Hello, sweetheart. Is your mom home?”
She tilted her head. “She’s baking cookies. Do you want one?”
Behind me, a car door slammed, and Belinda stepped out. The girl lit up.
“Aunt Belinda! I missed you!”
“Are you going to invite us in?” I teased.
She ran inside, calling, “Mamá, Aunt Belinda’s here!”
Nina stepped into the doorway, her face darkening when she saw us.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she hissed. “We have nothing to talk about.”
“Oh, I think we do.”
“You can’t let it go, can you, Vivi?”
“Let go? Like how you let go of our friendship? Of the truth about my daughter? And my granddaughter?” I snapped.
Nina’s face turned cold. “I was there for Belinda when you weren’t. I raised her, protected her.”
Belinda tried to speak, but Daisy’s adoring gaze stopped her. Before anything more could be said, Scooter’s voice cut through the tension.
“This feels like a telenovela,” he said, flipping through his notebook.
“Go play outside, cariño,” Nina ordered, and Daisy and Scooter disappeared.
“Come inside, let’s get this over with,” Nina said, rubbing her temples.
Just then, Harold appeared with a smirk. “If we’re having tea, I hope you saved me a cup.”
Nina’s eyes widened, and she collapsed.
The hospital was filled with tension. We had been there all night, waiting for news. Scooter slept in my arms, and Belinda brought coffee. My phone rang endlessly until I confessed everything to Greg, who immediately said he was coming.
The doctor finally emerged. “She made it through surgery, but her heart is weak. The next 48 hours are critical. She needs a blood transfusion.”
Without hesitation, I said, “Take mine.”
Soon, I lay in a bed beside Nina, an IV between us, a strange connection forming.
After a long silence, Nina whispered, “Who’s Scooter?”
“Greg’s son. He has two kids—Mia and Scooter.”
Nina’s face softened. “That’s why she wants Daisy.”
“She doesn’t want to take her away,” I explained. “She just wants to be in her life.”
Nina exhaled shakily. “I can’t lose her.”
“You were never alone, Nina. You just didn’t want to see it.”
Before she could respond, Greg stormed in, furious.
“Where the hell have you been?!”
Margo and Dolly rushed in next, frantic, followed by Scooter, eager for answers.
“Enough!” a nurse yelled, clearing the room.
As I was led out, Harold stayed behind, speaking softly to Nina, offering support. Nina nodded slowly.
Two weeks later, the house buzzed with life—dinner with everyone: Greg, Veronica, Mia, Scooter, Belinda, Daisy, Harold, and Nina, now staying with Harold, who turned out to be an excellent caretaker.
Daisy called Nina her “older mom,” and Belinda had embraced motherhood, helping Daisy with ease.
Harold leaned over, smug. “See? You stir the pot, but things always settle.”
I rolled my eyes. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”
As laughter filled the air, Greg smirked. “Mom, I gotta admit, life with you is… entertaining.”
Mia nudged him. “Dad, be nice to Grandma Vivi.”
But just as the evening seemed perfect, a knock at the door interrupted everything.
A man stood there, holding flowers.
“Patrick,” I breathed, my stomach sinking.
He grinned widely, stepping past me. “I drove so far to see you!”
I stared, stunned. Patrick, my ex, the man who had once been charming but had worn me out with his impulsiveness. He was back—and I had no idea why.
Greg, Harold, and Veronica exchanged glances, their curiosity piqued.
Scooter grabbed his notebook, excited. “This feels like the start of another mystery.”
I rubbed my temples, because honestly, he wasn’t wrong.