Seven Years Later

"Are you really sure you want to do this?"

Aunt Camille's concerned, almost trembling voice filtered into my ears that morning, even though I had spent both nights and days trying to convince her.

"You know there's nothing you're going to say that would change my mind, Aunt," I murmured quietly, my eyes fixed on my reflection as I check myself out slowly in front of the full-length mirror in my room.

The blue dress, striped faintly with silver I was wearing clung to the thick curves I'd somehow managed to build over the years. Curves born from survival. From healing and from learning to love a body that had once only known shame.

It hadn't been easy if I must say but the most important thing was that I had done it yes I had, gotten rid of the one thing that had almost felt impossible, my fat and now I could easily say I was pretty.

"Yes, but have you thought about the possibility of it being a sham?"

Her next words made me freeze, My hands stilled at my sides in that instant as I lifted my gaze to meet hers through the mirror.

She stood in the doorway, arms folded tightly across her chest, worry etched deep into her face. Her lips were pressed together like she was holding back everything she was afraid to say.

"What's that supposed to mean, Aunt?" I asked slowly, adjusting my posture before turning fully to face her.

"I mean... it's been years, Beverly," she said carefully. "Do you really think there's such a thing as a fake death? Or something like that?"

I swallowed, my throat suddenly tight.

"I told you already," I said, forcing calm into my voice, "the circumstances surrounding Tristan's death were strange. Complicated. I was too clouded by grief back then to really look into it. But now... now I'm ready."

"And what proof do you have that it wasn't just an accident?" she rasped. "Some mail from an anonymous person years after his death?"

I exhaled sharply and turned away, my gaze dropping to my phone lying on the dresser beside the mirror.

The screen was still on.

The email still open.

'Hi Mrs. Hawthorne, this is Doc R. If this somehow gets to you, just know I've got some information about your late son, Tristan Hawthorne--the truth about his death. Unfortunately, it's not something I can send via electronic devices because of where I based currently. I'd advise we meet physically here in Michigan. Send a text message to the number at the bottom of this message if you get here, and I'll call to tell you where we can meet. Then we can talk about everything'

Just that, A hidden number. No full name. No address.No explanation of how he got my current contact.

And I understood why Aunt Camille was scared. Anyone would be especially with a mail like this who knows it could actually be someone trying to fool me.

But the truth was I wasn't really going back because of the content in the mail.

Actually a week before that email arrived, I'd had this urge to go through Tristan's autopsy report again--after years of avoiding it like a wound that refused to close I had done it out of boredom. But then, this time, I saw things, things that didn't add up. Things my grief-clouded mind had refused to acknowledge before.

It was as if my medical training had sharpened my eyes and now I could see things, see past medical lies and forged results.

And if this "Doctor R" claimed to know something anything that could help me stake my claim that perhaps my son hadn't die the way I was made to believe he did then who was I to ignore it?

If it urned out to be a sham fine. But one thing is certain Tristan died in Michigan.

And if I were to follow the trail the autopsy was pointing me toward, it meant going back there to investigate irregardless. This trip was inevitable.

"That's not the only reason I'm going, Aunt," I said finally . "But you should know this I know what I'm doing. And even if it doesn't turn out to be true...let it be that I tried."

For reasons best known to me I stayed vague. Not because I didn't trust her but because I couldn't risk voicing everything yet until it's been confirmed and from the way her shoulders relaxed just a fraction, I knew she understood.

"And maybe," I continued softly, "this way I'll finally get closure."

That was another issue.

I hadn't really healed from Tristan's death. Trying to salvage a failed marriage hadn't allowed it back then in Michigan when it first happened but coming to Dasu hadn't helped either. The ache never truly left.

It only left me temporarily when I went back to Medical school to further my studies and pursue my dreams I had once abandon because of love it had been my only escape-burying myself in textbooks, exams, night shifts. It dulled the pain, but it never erased it.

Now that I had graduated had a job and had somehow managed to build a name for myself... it just came rushing back.

Like I was missing out on something concerning his death and unless I figured it out I won't be able to let him go and that was what prompted me to look into the autopsy in the first place.

"Okay," Aunt Camille said slowly, studying me. "I get it now. But you know that place has a lot of... you know..."

She trailed off, her eyes heavy with meaning.

"Are you sure you don't want to send someone over instead?" she asked quietly.

I knew what she meant understood why she was still skeptical yet again.

It was because of what happened back there and that should have been enough reason for me not to return.

But this was my son.

What kind of mother would I be if I avoided seeking the truth about my son because of fear and trauma or the past?

"It's okay," I muttered. "I didn't spend years rebuilding myself just to cower the moment I find a chance to avenge my son. I won't avoid this just because Michigan hold terrible memories of me." I said my voice hardened with resolve and God know I meant every word.

"And him?" she asked yet again giving me a more meaningful look. "Have you thought about the possibility of running into him?"

I didn't need her to say the name.

"I can handle Marcus, Aunt," I said firmly. The name tasted bitter, metallic. "You don't have to worry about that. Or anything else. I'm grown enough to take care of myself now." I said offering her a small, warm smile. She studied my face for a long moment before nodding slowly.

"Yeah I'm just worried about you," she admitted. "You know how you came back years ago. I'd be damned if something happens to you again."

"I understand," I said softly. "But you have to trust me. I'll be fine."

She hesitated then sighed.

"Alright," she said at last, offering a gentle smile. "I wish you a safe trip."

Relief flooded me almost immediately as I crossed the room to her and wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her shoulder.

"Thank you for believing in me, Aunt," I whispered. "I promise I won't disappoint you."

She nodded, patting my back slowly, her touch steadying and grounding me.

And for the first time in years, I felt like I was finally walking toward the truth instead of running from it.

Beverly POV

The flight back to Michigan felt like the longest one I had ever taken. Maybe it was because it had been so long since I'd been here... or maybe it was the circumstances surrounding my return. I honestly didn't know.

The entire time, I sat by the window, watching the ground below slowly shrink as we ascended the sky. Buildings became dots and the roads thinned into faint lines.

With every passing minute, my chest tightened, my heart racing like it wanted to leap right out of me. Anxiety coiled deep in my stomach one I knew had nothing to do with flying a plane. I took slow, measured breaths at intervals, whispering to myself that I could do this again and again until the plane finally touched down.

When I stepped out, I drew in a deep breath of the city's air. It felt different. Fresher. The city had changed so much since the last time I was here, and despite myself, I felt a flicker of awe. Tall buildings. Brighter lights. A new kind of movement. But the amazement didn't last long before nostalgia crept in, dragging along memories of everything that had gone wrong here. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to steady my thoughts.

I moved toward the roadside outside the airline terminal and boarded a cab, giving the driver the address of the hotel I had booked weeks before arriving. Yes-I had already sorted everything out.

The plan was simple.

Find the anonymous doctor, listen to what he had to say then find out who was involved in taking my son away from me and make them pay if that was the case.

Or, at the very least, uncover the truth behind his death and finally get the closure I needed.

Either way, I wasn't planning to stay longer than a month.

The cab eventually rolled to a halt in front of one of the most expensive hotels in town. After paying my fare, I stepped out and approached the bright-faced receptionist at the front desk. The check-in process was smooth, and soon enough, I was headed to my suite in the VIP section.

The room was decent and exactly to my taste. I unpacked without hesitation, then headed straight for the bathroom after a long, warm shower which j washed away the exhaustion clinging to my bones then returned back into the room afterwards. Food arrived just minutes after I settled in, and once I ate to my fill, I finally felt human again.

I took out my phone and sent a brief email to the anonymous doctor, letting him know I was back in the country. After that, restlessness settled in staying indoors suddenly felt suffocating so I decided to step out.

It had been so long since I left this city and I wanted to see how much it had changed, how much it had grown.

I got into another cab and asked the driver to take me to the country amusement park. I let my eyes drink in everything as we moved along-new structures, familiar corners that felt strangely distant now. After a lot of sightseeing through some of the city's most popular and beautiful spots, I decided to stop at the kids' general playground located in the middle of the park.

It was one place I had always loved back in Dasu.

Watching children play laughing, running and screaming with pure excitement always filled something empty inside me. It gave me a strange sense of fulfillment and I knew my tour wouldn't feel complete without visiting one, and that was why I had saved it for last. It was the best.

When I arrived, I settled onto a stool by the side and simply watched. Children of different races and colors ran around freely, their joy contagious. The scene warmed my heart, and for a moment, I forgot why I was here in this country.

But as I kept watching, my eyes drifted to the far end of the playground.

A little boy maybe six or seven sat alone on a bench, staring at the other kids with sad and gloomy look on his face an expression too heavy for someone his age.

Something about him felt... different and from where I sat, I noticed how pale he looked, how skinny his small frame was. He was cute really cute yet looked fragile in a way that made my chest ache. And there was something about him that looked looked familiar too he looked so much like someone I knew but I wasn't ready to admit it.

But why wasn't he playing with the others?

My heart softened completely as I watched him and before I could stop myself I stood immediately and walked toward him.

"Hi there," I called softly, giving a small wave as I approached.

"Hi, Auntie," he replied, waving back. His brows creased slightly, surprise flickering across his face at my unfamiliar presence. Still, he didn't pull away when I sat beside him on the bench.

"So... I'm Beverly," I said gently. "And you are...?"

He didn't answer immediately Instead, he studied me his eyes sharp and assessing, like he was trying to figure me out. It was strange. Most kids would have blurted out their name without thinking, but he was different.

And again, that feeling returned... that he reminded me of someone.

"It's okay if you don't want to say your name-"

"Liam," he said suddenly.

I raised a brow, surprised.

"My name's Liam," he repeated.

I smiled warmly at him. "That's a nice name. So, Liam... can I ask why you're not playing with the other kids?"

"It's because I'm sick," he said quietly and my brow creased because I didn't get him but as if understanding my confusion he repeated. "They won't let me... because I'm sick."

Then to further his point he lifted his left hand, and only then did I notice the IV line connected to the pole beside him.

My heart shattered completely at the sight.

"Oh my God... I'm so sorry-"

"Liam!" a sharp voice suddenly called from behind at that instant.

I turned to see a middle-aged woman approaching, a frown etched deep into her face.

"What have you been told about talking to strangers?" she scolded, glaring at the boy.

"It's okay, Nanny Marcy," Liam said quickly. "She's just a friend. Her name is Beverly."

The woman turned her gaze to me, eyes scanning me from head to toe, cautious and alert and after a moment--after she clearly realized I meant no harm--her expression softened.

"Oh-hi, dear. I'm Marcy."

"I'm Beverly," I said, forcing a smile as I stretched out my hand. She shook it without hesitation.

"I'm sorry for how I reacted earlier," she added. "You know how it is... Liam is a bit different, and we're very protective of him."

"I understand," I nodded sincerely.

She smiled again. "If you don't mind, I'll step away."

With that, she left us.

I turned back to Liam. He was still seated, his eyes fixed on the kids playing. Closer now, I caught the longing in his gaze, the way his fingers curled against the bench like he wanted to run toward them but knew he couldn't.

My chest burned at the sight such a sweet yet unfortunate boy to think life had robbed him of his childhood and hell nothing could be more painful than that.

"Since you can't play with the other kids," I said softly after a while trying to help him. "how about I play with you?"

His face lit up almost instantly.

"Really? You'll play with me?" His voice trembled with excitement I didn't expect.

"Yes," I smiled feeling my heart warmed again with his smile. "Just tell me what you want to play."

He squealed happily.

And that was it we played for a really long time--long enough for the sun to start dipping low. For the first time that day, he laughed freely. And when my phone buzzed with a message from the doctor, telling me where to meet him, sadness settled deep in my chest.

I hated that I had to leave but I had no choice.

"Am I going to see you again, Aunt Beverly?" he asked suddenly just as I stood to leave his smile already fading from his face.

My chest tightened.

I wasn't so sure about that. I was here on a mission. And I didn't know how things would end.

But I couldn't break him either.

"Yes," I said softly, crouching in front of him. Our eyes met his deep green ones searching mine. "And when I do, we'll play even more games."

His face brightened again at that. "Alright, Auntie."

"Now go back to Nanny Marcy," I said, ruffling his hair.

He nodded and ran to her side. She approached me moments later, her eyes warm.

"Thank you for today, Beverly. You're such a kind person. It's been so long since I saw Liam this happy."

My throat tightened. "Yes and I'm grateful I could be the reason for it."

Afterward I turned to leave.

But just as I reached the road about hailing down a cab, an ear-piercing suddenly scream tore through the air behind me.

I halted and spun around almost immediately only the be welcome by a scene that made my heart drop straight to my stomach.

Beverly POV

The sight before me made the color drain instantly from my face.

My heart dropped straight into my stomach along with it, so hard it knocked the breath out of me as I gazed at the most unexpected scene before me.

Lying on the floor convulsing violently was Liam.

His small body was jerking uncontrollably, limbs thrashing the way I had only ever seen in patients having seizures.

For a moment, my mind refused to accept what my eyes were seeing as if blinking hard enough would make it disappear what the hell was going on?

This was the same Liam who had been standing right in front of me just minutes ago, smiling softly, asking if he would get to see me again.

Now his face was frighteningly pale, the color almost leached out of him. His eyes were squeezed tightly shut, lashes trembling against his cheeks. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw looked locked, every muscle in his tiny body straining as violent spasm upon spasm tore through him.

Beside him, Nanny Marcy was kneeling on the floor, screaming his name over and over again while desperately fumbling with her phone. Her hands shook so badly she nearly dropped it.

But Liam wasn't responding.

My heart jerked painfully at the sight almost immediately, and before I could think before fear could freeze me in place my body moved on instinct and I ran over to them.

"Oh my goodness, what's happening to him?" I asked, my voice sharp with alarm as I dropped beside them.

Up close, it was worse.

I could hear the small, broken grunts escaping Liam's throat sounds of pain that didn't belong to a child. His face was twisted unnaturally with so much pain and agony, brows drawn tight with lips trembling as if he was fighting something far bigger than himself.

The sight hit me hard, clenching my chest so tightly it hurt to breathe.

Although I had seen children in pain before. Too many of them. It should have been something I've have gotten used to by now.

But hell this Liam own felt different infact everything about him him different. I just couldn't comprehend it and It scared me how deeply it was affecting me.

"It happens to him every time," Nanny Marcy crying voice suddenly broke into my thoughts her voice shook with every words. "But today-it's worse. Much worse and I'm so confused right now. I've been trying to reach his driver so we could take him to the hospital but he's not picking up!"

Her panic was raw, unfiltered. Everything about the way she was acting showed this wasn't really something new to her but for some reasons she looked really scared out of her wits and it made me wonder how long this has been going on?

But I didn't have time to think much because when I looked back at Liam again the convulsions had intensified. His body jerked harder now faster. His breathing sounded strained, almost as if he was finding it difficult to breathe.

And I knew at that instant that waiting any longer wasn't an option.

"That's enough," I said firmly, my voice cutting through her sobs. "Let me handle this."

Before she could protest, I moved beside her and carefully lifted Liam into my arms.

She stared at me in shock, eyes wide, face drained of color. Her phone slipped slightly in her trembling hand.

"Miss Beverly--please--I mean no offense, but it's inappropriate for outsiders to-"

I didn't listen but turned and hurried toward the roadside, my arms tightening protectively around Liam as I flagged down a cab and made to climb inside.

"Take me to the nearest hospital. Now," I told the driver, already shifting Liam onto my lap.

However before I could move Nanny Marcy rushed forward again, panic etched deep into her features.

"Please, Miss Beverly, listen to me. The master won't be pleased if he hears his son was taken in public transport-"

I ignored her completely and instead focused on settling in the back seat of the car.

Who cares about family doctrine status or whatever when a child's life was slipping away?

Once I was settled in the backseat, the driver slammed his foot on the accelerator, and the car lurched forward.

"How far to the nearest hospital?" I asked, my voice trembling despite my effort to stay calm.

"About thirty minutes, ma'am," the driver replied.

Thirty minutes.

My gaze dropped back to Liam. His body was still jerking, sweat soaking through his clothes now. My heart raced painfully as I realized I couldn't just sit there and watch.

Moving quickly I pulled off his shirt, folded it, and slid it beneath his head to cushion it, carefully angling his face to the side as I rested him fully against my lap. His skin burned beneath my fingers when I checked his temperature far too hot, despite the sweat and his breathing grew rapid and shallow too.

God.

Panic clawed at my throat.

It had been more than five minutes now far longer than a normal seizure should have lasted. Normally he should have come out of it by now but he hadn't which told me everything.

This wasn't normal a seizure.

This was something else, my mind screamed.

Just what exactly was wrong with him?

"Mister, please-drive faster!" I yelled at the driver when I couldn't take it anymore I could barely recognize my own voice at that moment.

The driver glanced back briefly and as if finally registering the urgency, he pressed harder on the accelerator until the world outside blurred and it felt like we were flying.

The entire ride, my chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else as I held Liam and silently begged the universe not to let anything happen to him.

I had only just met him yet losing him felt unbearable.

Maybe it was my past. Maybe it was fear masquerading as instinct I didn't know.

But I knew I wouldn't survive watching another child slip away again especially not someone like Liam I considered dear to me.

The hospital soon came into view and I jumped out of the cab almost immediately before it had fully stopped and without thinking or caring to pay the cab man his face I ran straight inside with Liam still tightly clutched against me.

The nurses around immediately swung into action on seeing me.

A stretcher was wheeled forward from only God knows where as different hands reached for him, voices overlapped and before I knew it, Liam was being taken from my arms.

"Nothing must happen to him!" I screamed, frantically and desperately after the nurses as I watched them wheel him away. "Do you hear me? Please do everything you can to save him!"

They wheeled him away, disappearing through double doors marked EMERGENCY and only when the doors slammed shut did my legs finally weaken.

"God... please," I whispered. "Nothing should happen to him." I prayed inwardly as I paced the hallway, my hands clasped together before me, my heart racing violently, my body still reeling from the shock of everything that had happened until-

"Liam!"

A voice suddenly echoed down the hallway behind me.

I froze instantly my breath catching painfully in my throat as I couldn't bring myself to believe it.

No.

That voice-

"No, no, no..." I whispered under my breath my fingers trembling.

I knew that voice. It was a voice that had haunted my nightmares for years one I had prayed fervently not to ever hear again what the hell is he doing here?

"Mr. Hawthorne, please calm down," a nurse said quickly. "Liam has been taken to the ER. He's going to be fine."

As if the voice alone didn't do it's worst the surname was mentioned further confirming my fears but just when I thought I had heard it all.

"I don't want to calm down!" the familiar snapped again. "I want to see my son. Where is he?!"

This time my entire body went stiff.

Wait son?

Someone tell me I didn't just hear that right, did I?

I turned slowly, dread crawling up my spine-

And as expected I found myself staring into the face of the very last person I ever wanted to see.

Marcus Hawthorne.