Kay had always wanted more. More than what life gave her. More than what she ever deserved. Her thirst for wealth wasn't new—it was stitched deep into her soul like an unhealed scar. Once, she had been a greedy, self-centered student—shamelessly using people to climb her way toward glitter. Miss Clay, once her teacher, had known that version of her all too well.
But people change—or at least they pretend to.
Now, years later, Kay had draped herself in the image of a reformed woman. She was softer, gentler, seemingly full of grace. She had carefully crafted the illusion of a quiet life: a small restaurant, a passion for children, and a tragic past that painted her a victim. She promised herself—promised God, even—that she would never hurt anyone again. At least, not directly.
Because everyone has a past. Some carry childhood laughter, some carry bruises.
And some—like Kay—carry knives hidden behind a velvet smile.
Miss Dora had made up her mind. Of all the profiles Miss Clay had sent, Kay's stood out—not because of her education or beauty, but because of the story in her eyes. There was something tragically delicate about her that stirred something maternal in Miss Dora's heart.
She dialed Miss Clay immediately. "Set up a meeting," she said. "I want to see the girl in person."
David, as expected, was dismissive. "I'm not interested, Mom. Don't bring it up again." His voice was calm, but his words were laced with fatigue and finality. Miss Dora said nothing more—but his rejection worried her. What if he treats Kay coldly? What if she walks into our home only to be frozen out? The worry sat heavy in her chest until Lara reassured her, softly, "Let's see how she is first. Maybe things will unfold naturally."
The meeting was set for Friday afternoon—at a quiet restaurant Miss Dora frequented. She arrived with Lara, both dressed neatly, waiting with mild nervousness.
Kay was late.
Miss Dora checked the time, just once. But Lara's sharp eyes caught sight of someone approaching through the glass doors. "There she is," she said.
Kay walked in like she owned the air around her. Wearing a pink romper, white platform heels, oversized sunglasses, and a brand-name handbag swinging on her wrist—she looked more like someone stepping into a fashion show than a family meeting. But when she spoke, her tone was soft, sugary.
"Hi, everybody."
Miss Dora stood and hugged her. "Hello, dear."
Lara echoed the greeting, studying her carefully. Kay took her seat gracefully, placing her bag beside her like a prized possession.
"Please, order something," Miss Dora said politely. "We've been waiting for you."
"Oh… no need, ma'am," Kay replied, eyes fluttering modestly.
"Don't be formal," Miss Dora insisted.
Kay finally gave in and ordered for all three of them with a practiced ease—chicken wings, fruit salad, pasta, and sandwiches. Not a hint of hesitation, not a blink out of place.
Once the waiter left, the questions began.
"So how are you, dear?" Miss Dora asked gently.
"All good, ma'am," Kay smiled. "Clay has already told me about David and his son. I… I think it's admirable what you're doing."
"And you? What do you do?" Miss Dora leaned in.
"I run a small restaurant. It's more than a job—it's my passion. It's everything to me."
Miss Dora smiled, pleasantly surprised. "That's lovely. Really lovely."
Lara repeated, "Lovely," but her voice had a touch of irony that went unnoticed.
Then, Kay's tone changed. A pause. A dramatic sigh.
"Actually… there's something I wanted to tell you. About my past."
The table stilled.
"Of course," Miss Dora said. "You can speak freely here."
Kay's voice cracked as if rehearsed. "Five years ago… I was forced to marry my cousin. It was against my will—my parents insisted. It was a cold, loveless marriage. He never respected me, never saw me as his wife. Every day, he would insult me… even beat me. I stayed silent. I endured it all… until the day he tried to kill me. That's when I finally spoke up."
Tears shimmered in her eyes—perfectly timed. Lara watched her closely. Miss Dora, overcome with sympathy, reached across the table and touched her hand.
"Oh, my poor child."
"Yes, poor child," Lara echoed, though her tone was unreadable.
Kay sniffled, looking down. "I just… hope for something better this time. That's all."
"My son is a gentleman," Miss Dora assured. "If you come into his life, he'll respect you. He may not love again, but he won't harm you."
Lara added, "He's serious, but kind. Just… give him time."
The food arrived, and conversation lightened. Miss Dora steered the topic toward Harry, sharing how the boy had become David's whole world after Maylie's death.
"He's changed since then," Miss Dora said. "All he knows now is work and his son."
"I understand," Kay replied sweetly, dabbing her lips with a napkin. "A man who loves his child is the best kind of man."
The lunch ended with polite smiles and vague promises.
"I'll wait for your answer," Miss Dora said gently.
"I'll think about it," Kay replied, her voice soft as silk. "Thank you for today."
Back at home, Miss Dora and Lara sat in the drawing room, discussing the encounter.
"She's a nice girl," Miss Dora said. "Sensible, sweet… and her pain—it touched me."
Lara nodded. "Yes… she's definitely been through a lot."
Miss Dora's face grew pained. "Such sorrow in such a young age. She said she's 25, didn't she?"
"She did," Lara said, eyes narrowing for a second.
"I like her," Miss Dora smiled. "I really do."
"She's… different," Lara agreed, but her words held a weight Miss Dora didn't notice.
"I think she's the one," Miss Dora concluded. "Now let's just wait for her answer."
"And David?"
Miss Dora sighed. "He said no. But some things… we can't force. We can only hope."
And with that, the seed was sown. A girl with crocodile tears and a carefully rehearsed past had entered their lives—sweet on the outside, hollow and hungry on the inside. What no one saw, not yet, was the storm she carried with her behind that gentle smile.
But storms, no matter how quiet at first, always leave destruction in their wake.