Five years.

That was how long it had been since Vivian's funeral, since the quiet ceremony with black umbrellas and fake condolences, since Nicholas Williams had looked me in the eye and told me I didn't have a choice.

It has been Five years since I stopped thinking of this house as temporary. Now, it is just part of my daily life; the kids have become my new normal.

"Mommy!"

The nickname still made something flutter in my chest. At times, it felt sweet or like a weight I hadn't earned. But neither of the triplets, Ivy, Rita, or Julie, knew any other word for me. 

As far as they were concerned, I was their mother. And in all the ways that counted, like feeding them, protecting them from their nightmares, giving band-aids when they got hurt, or bedtime stories.

I turned away from the sink and crouched just in time to catch Ivy as she barreled into my legs, her curls bouncing wildly.

"What's all this energy?" I laughed, smoothing a hand over her head. "Julie said you make better pancakes than Daddy!" she announced, and I smiled. 

"Is that a fact?"

Behind her, Julie appeared, arms crossed and a mischievous grin. "I didn't say better," she declared, knowing how to stir things up. "I said the ones you make don't look like burned hats."

A snort came from the hallway, and I stilled to stare at the handsome man in my sight. 

Nicholas stood in the doorway, wearing a black suit and a half-done tie. His watch glinted in the sunlight. Even now, he looked wonderful with his tall stature, effortlessly groomed appearance, and unreadable expression.

"Is that so?" he said coolly.

The children giggled and dashed off, their footsteps echoing into the vast halls of the house.

He stepped into the kitchen, picking up his coffee from the counter where I'd placed it twenty minutes earlier. It was still hot and perfect, but he didn't thank me; he never did.

"Your appointment is at Five," he said without looking at me.

"What appointment?" I said, frowning in confusion.

"For Julie's pediatrician, I rescheduled it since you missed the last one." My stomach tightened. "You didn't tell me about it."

"I shouldn't have to."

There it was, the tone, that subtle, dismissive edge that told me this was not a conversation, but an order.

I didn't answer, I just nodded, returning to the dishes. We had these moments often, sharp and cold and quiet. 

He never yelled, never raised his voice, but everything he said carried an unspoken threat. One he never needed to say aloud anymore: "You're here because I let you be."

No one could deny that he was a good father. He was always attentive and affectionate, so the kids loved him. He tucked them in bed every night when he wasn't traveling, read to them, and built extravagant playhouses in the backyard.

But to me?

I was still the woman who took something from him.

He hadn't forgiven me for Vivian's death, and grief had twisted him into something sharp.

I sometimes caught him staring at me from across a room, his eyes distant and tormented. He seemed to be trying to imagine her in my place or erase me altogether.

Later that week, I stood on the patio, hanging Rita's tiny T-shirts on the drying rack. The sun was warm, and the air smelled like lavender from the garden. If someone had taken a photo of me then, they might have thought I looked peaceful.

They wouldn't have known I flinched every time I heard his footsteps.

Nicholas walked out onto the patio without a word, his phone pressed to his ear. He barely looked at me as he passed, but I heard the tail end of his conversation.

"...no, I said I'm not ready for that, I'm not replacing her."

I froze, one hand on a peg.

Replacing her.

He wasn't talking about business, I knew that much. He never spoke about Vivian to me, but I knew she was still in everything. 

Her photos hung in the hallway, and her perfume bottles remained untouched in the upstairs bathroom. It was as if she might return any day, but I knew she couldn't.

I swallowed and looked away. I wasn't here for him and reminded myself of that every day. I was here for them, Ivy, Rita, and Julie. 

I woke them, fed them, played with them, and sang them to sleep. Every scraped knee, every fever, every tantrum, they were all mine to handle.

And in the quiet hours of the night, when I tiptoed past the nursery back to my room, the small, spare guest room at the far end of the house, I reminded myself that it wasn't forever.

Or at least, it wasn't supposed to be.

After everyone was asleep that night, I sat on the edge of my bed with the lamp on and picked up my phone.

There was a missed call from my mother and then a text.

"Sweetheart, can I see you soon? I know you're busy with school, but I miss you."

Guilt hit me square in the chest like it had been doing for a while now.

I hadn't seen her in for too long, and she lived just a few hours away, in a house I used to call home. She wouldn't like Nicholas, and he'd never welcome her here; his kindness wasn't part of the deal.

I stood, pacing a little.

I had the pediatrician appointment tomorrow as well as laundry. There was always something, some reason to stay locked in this life I hadn't chosen but couldn't seem to escape.

But still, that message echoed in my chest.

Can I see you?

I don't even remember the last time I hugged her or felt the warmth she exuded.

I stared out the window at the dark lawn below, Five years of living someone else's life, of putting myself last.

I turned and grabbed my overnight bag from the top of the closet. Just for the weekend, I told myself.

I would visit her, and I'd let the kids stay with the nanny because she was more than capable. I needed to breathe. For a while, I needed a reminder that I wasn't just the woman who stayed behind.

I still had a name, a past, and a mother who loved me dearly. I needed to remember who I was before all this began.

The house hadn't changed a bit.

It was still the same pale blue shutters, and small winds dancing in the breeze. The paint on the walls was peeling a little more, and the flower beds needed trimming, but it still smelled like my childhood.

My heart thundered as I stood on the front porch, hand frozen mid-knock. It was a strange sensation, like I was a teenager again, sneaking in late, unsure what kind of welcome I'd receive. Only this time, it had been Five years, and I hadn't just missed curfew, I'd disappeared.

I knocked softly so as not to startle her, and held my breath as the seconds passed.

When my mother opened the door, her eyes didn't register. She just stood there in her faded floral apron, a dish towel still clutched in one hand, and blinked like she was seeing a ghost.

"Ava?"

I smiled sadly, though my throat ached too much to say anything.

Then, all at once, she rushed forward and wrapped me in her arms. I nearly dropped my bag as she pulled me into her chest, her hands trembling, her shoulders shaking.

"Ava, my God.." Her voice broke. "I thought... I didn't know if you'd ever-"

She couldn't finish her sentence, but I didn't need to. I understood everything she hadn't said.

I buried my face into the crook of her neck, into the scent of garlic, soap, and home, and held on tighter than I'd meant to. Five years of distance collapsed into that embrace, of letters that said everything and nothing, of phone calls where I pretended to be too busy, too tired, too far away.

"I missed you," I whispered, the words cracking as they came out. "I'm so sorry, Mama."

She pulled back to look at me. Her eyes were older now, but still sharp, searching my face like she was afraid I might vanish if she blinked. Then she cupped my cheeks in both hands and smiled through tears.

"You're here," she said. "That's all that matters."

I nodded, afraid I'd unravel completely if I spoke again.

"Come in," she said quickly, ushering me inside. "Come sit down, let me look at you properly, my precious baby's home."

I followed her, my heart full and throat tight. But not once did she ask why I was here.

She made tea even though it was warm outside. That was always her way, warmth for warmth, comfort for comfort. As she poured, she talked about the neighbors, the choir at church, and the tomato garden she finally got to grow after all these years.

And I sat and listened, nodding at intervals, grateful for every second she filled the silence.

When she finally sat down across from me, her eyes softened. "You look tired," she said gently.

"I've been... busy," I said, forcing a small smile. "Life's just been a lot."

She reached over and touched my hand. "You wrote, now and then, you said you were studying a course. I didn't ask too many questions, but I always wondered, was it just school keeping you away all this time?"

I hesitated, heart thudding.

"I didn't want you to worry," I said at last, my voice low. "There were... complications, but it's over now, I'm safe."

That last word felt strange on my tongue; it didn't taste like the truth, but I didn't take it back. She nodded slowly, seeming to accept that for now.

"I just wish I could've been there for you," she said. "Whatever it was, whatever you went through, you shouldn't have done it alone."

I squeezed her hand. "You were always with me, Mama. Every time things got too heavy, I thought of you."

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but she didn't let them fall this time. She just smiled and stood up, clapping her hands together softly.

"Come on. You need a proper meal, and I need to keep my hands busy, or I'll cry all over again."

Dinner felt like stepping into the past.

She made every one of my favorites without even asking. I helped chop the vegetables while she hummed and stirred the stew like she had done a hundred times before. 

But it wasn't about the food, it was about the rhythm of being together. The small comforts of shared space and the ease of love that had never been conditional.

When we sat down to eat, she reached across the table and touched my wrist.

"Are you staying for good this time?"

I looked up from my plate. The question was gentle, but it carried a lot of weight.

"I think so," I said. "Not here in this house. I've been... living somewhere else, but I want to come around more often, I need this again. You."

She smiled, eyes crinkling. "This house is always yours to stay in, Ava. You don't even have to ask."

I smiled back in response before voicing a thought that had been at the back of my mind. "I was thinking, maybe I could get someone to check in on you, it could be a nurse, or a nanny, just in case-"

She waved the idea off with a laugh. "I've been living on my own just fine. Besides, you'd waste your money, and I'm old, not broken."

I laughed, too, though something tightened in my chest. After everything I'd done for her, she still didn't know the cost, and maybe she never would.

We spent hours talking after dinner on the couch, barefoot, wrapped in an old blanket, even though it was warm. 

She told me stories I'd heard before but didn't mind hearing again. She asked about what I'd been doing, and I gave her just enough to make her smile, but not enough to make her suspicious.

And all the while, my phone lay face down in my bag by the door, buzzing once again and again, but I wanted to remain this peaceful for a bit more.

The messages: Gloria (Nanny)

Ava, I've been calling, but you're not answering.

It's urgent, the triplets aren't here.

Please answer, I think someone took them.

But I didn't see any of it, because I was finally home for the first time in Five years.

And I was too busy remembering what it felt like.

The moment I read the nanny's text, everything inside me went still.

The kids are gone? Those texts were all it took to crush me out.

A cold heaviness filled my chest. Oh God, not again, not after everything I had already survived. 

I felt like I had fallen into the same fire I barely survived after Vivian's death.

I grabbed my phone, my hands shaking as I called the nanny. 

It rang twice before she picked up.

"What happened?" My voice was already rising. 

"How did this happen? I left those kids with you! Can't I have a break without everything falling apart?"

" I-I don't know," she stammered, with panic in her voice. 

"They were right here, Madam Ava. I turned for a second to answer the doorbell. When I came back...."

I didn't let her finish and ended the call immediately. My hands shook uncontrollably.

I told Mom I needed to go take care of something urgent. I didn't lie exactly, it was urgent, just not the kind she thought. 

Now, that excuse felt like I had lied to her face.

Panic rushed in, and guilt followed like it had been waiting. I had no idea if what I felt was my natural bond with the triplets, or if it was the crushing fear of how ruthlessly Nicholas would react.

Nicholas. 

The ruthless billionaire who had already buried one woman, now her babies were missing while I was meant to protect them.

I typed quickly.

Hi Nicholas, it's Ava.

The triplets are missing.

I just went out for a moment, and I've been getting repeated calls from the nanny. Your presence is needed at the mansion. Please help. I'm trying my best to be calm, but things are a mess right now.

I hit send or thought I did.

Just as I was about to double-check, my phone rang, my mother's call came in. 

I answered right away, my voice shaking over every sentence during the conversation.

Hours passed. 

No response from Nicholas, and  still no trace of the children.

I walked crazily around the mansion, calling their names as if they would suddenly come out of the closets and laugh. 

But the house was too quiet, no trace of them. 

Unlike every child's room, their toys were untouched, and the room was neatly arranged. 

In fact, the whole house was like a crime scene.

The sharp slam of the front door dragged me out of my thoughts. 

Nicholas had arrived.

I turned around just as he stepped inside. His sharp eyes swept across the living room.

"Where are my kids?" he barked.

"Why is this house so silent?" Why isn't anyone here to greet me?" What's going on?"

I stepped forward, trying to explain. 

"Nicholas, I tried calling. I left a message"

He cut me off. 

"Message? I got nothing. What kind of joke is this?"

I quickly checked my phone, and the message was still unsent, sitting there like it was mocking me.

"I wrote it, but didn't get to send it because my mom called. I thought it sent"

Nicholas looked at me like I'd just lost my mind, like I was speaking another language.

"Don't stand there making excuses. Where are they, Ava?"

Tears filled my eyes. "I don't know."

He froze.

"You don't know?" His tone dropped dangerously low, more dangerous than a shout. 

"You left my children, and now they're gone?"

I chipped in, "I stepped out just briefly"

"For what? Another excuse?" His jaw clenched. 

"You took their mother. Now you want to take them too?"

I took a step backward like I had been shocked "Please don't say that"

"You have twenty-four hours, no, that's a lot, you've got twelve hours," he hissed. 

"Find them. Or don't bother showing your face again."

My throat tightened as I tried to speak. My voice barely came out. "Twelve hours?"

"That's generous," he spat. "You're supposed to be their guardian, Ava. This is on you."

And just like that, he marched into the hallway, voice sharp as he snapped orders into his phone.

***

I had never been this hurt my entire life, the pain was too deep. 

I couldn't breathe. 

I couldn't think. 

The fear held me so tightly that I couldn't move.

Where do I even start? I didn't have any idea on who would have taken them or why. 

The gates were always locked and security was supposed to be tight.

Unless it was someone on the inside.

I began searching every room again. The closets, the garden, even the laundry room.

I checked the CCTV footage, but the cameras had gone dark a few hours ago, sending a new chill down my spine.

Nicholas was on the phone nonstop, calling security firms and contacting the authorities. 

He moved like a machine, cold and sharp, never letting his eyes touch mine.

I tried to sit, but my legs wouldn't stop shaking, and my tummy twisted with every passing second. 

I was so exhausted I barely noticed when I collapsed on the couch with my phone still in hand.

By the time I had woken up, it was still dark, but I was covered with something warm-a blanket.

Strange, I didn't remember getting one.

I forced my sleepy eyes open, slowly sat up, and looked around.

The nanny passed by, and I called out to her.

"Did you put this blanket over me?"

She shook her head. "No. Mr Nicholas did. He came in about an hour ago, and you were shivering uncontrollably in your sleep."

I blinked again, unsure if I heard her right. Nicholas? Covered me?

That wasn't like him at all.

"That's so strange," I whispered to myself.

Maybe it was guilt, or perhaps the ruthless billionaire wasn't completely heartless.

Still, none of it mattered. The kids were gone, and time was running out.

***

I sat up fully, trying to reprocess everything, then remembered something.

The nanny said she turned around to answer the door.

What door?

I rushed to her room.

"Who came to the door earlier?"I questioned.

She blinked, clearly startled. 

"I...I don't know. I thought it was one of the staff. I opened it, and no one was there. Maybe it was a prank"

"A prank, who would want to play a prank?" My voice broke. "And you didn't think to tell me this earlier?"

"I tried telling you, but you cut me short, and I didn't want to make things worse. I thought maybe...maybe the kids were playing hide and seek."

I turned away from her, my whole body going numb. 

Something wasn't right. 

This wasn't just carelessness; it looked planned, like something carefully arranged and a targeted attack.

A notification flashed just as I grabbed my phone.

Private Number: You took something from me. Now it's your turn.

My breath was fastened.

What?

I read it again, my hands shaking uncontrollably.

Another message followed.

You have until sunrise.

I felt my heart drop.

This didn't happen by chance. Someone was taking revenge.

And I had no idea what was coming next.