As the car pulled into the long driveway, I spotted Janisse pacing back and forth in the small garden beside the front porch.
The moment she saw the car, she set aside the cup she was holding and rushed over, pulling open the door before Andy could even get to it. She helped me out with both hands, eyes scanning me like I'd just returned from war.
"How was it? Is he easy to get along with? Did he make you feel uncomfortable? Was he respectful? How was he? Do you like him?"
She fired off questions like a cannon, her voice breathless with concern.
I couldn't help but laugh softly at her fussing. There was something silly—but deeply comforting—about seeing someone so genuinely worried. I reached out and gently squeezed her arm, blinking back sudden tears.
In my past life, I'd never known what it felt like to be mothered. Only my grandparents had shown me care. But this… this was different.
"Mom, I'm fine," I said, voice warm but a little shaky. "He was nice. Very accommodating. I felt comfortable the whole time."
"Oh, my dear! You're such a big girl now—why are you crying?" she said, flustered, wiping the tears from my cheeks with her thumb.
"It's just... I'll have to leave home soon," I murmured.
That earned me a soft glare.
"Silly girl," she chided gently, "this will always be your home. You can come and go as you please."
She slipped her arm around me and led me back inside.
Once we'd both calmed down, I sat beside her and shared what Silas and I had discussed—our agreement, our intentions, and what we hoped to build.
She listened quietly, her brows slightly drawn as she absorbed everything.
"Have you really thought about this?" she asked seriously.
I nodded.
"I have. It's just… it breaks my heart that his daughter doesn't have a mother. If I'm going to marry her father anyway, I'd like to give her a proper home. A real one."
I paused, then added with a teasing smile, "So, you'll be a grandma a little earlier than expected."
She laughed, her eyes soft as she reached over and gently pinched my cheek.
"Silly little thing."
"It's good that you're getting along," she said after a moment. "When will you be meeting the child?"
"This Saturday," I answered, reaching for a plate of grapes from the table. "He said we'll meet at his apartment—he's raising her there."
She nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, get along well. And let us know when you're ready to start planning the wedding."
She gave me a meaningful look. "How would you like it?"
I popped a grape into my mouth before answering.
"Private. Just close friends and family."
"Alright. I'll make sure of it when the time comes."
Silas Pu'ran
After seeing her off, Silas took the long way back to the Pu'ran main house.
He hadn't planned to stay long—just long enough to check in on his daughter and let his family know how the meeting went. The conversation with Jiana played over in his mind, calmer now than it had been at any point since the arrangement was proposed. He hadn't expected her to be so composed… or so clear about what she wanted.
When he stepped inside, the sound of soft humming greeted him. His mother, Marcelle, sat in the living room with the baby in her arms, gently rocking her.
His father, Everett, was seated nearby with a newspaper, glasses resting low on his nose. Across the room, his older brother Stephan was on his phone, while his younger sister, Nia, braided their older sister Celeste's hair.
"You're back early," Marcelle said, glancing up at him. Her sharp gaze softened slightly. "How did it go?"
Silas walked over and gently took his daughter from her arms. The baby stirred but didn't wake. He held her close, steady and warm.
"It went well," he said simply.
Everett folded the newspaper and leaned forward, giving Silas his full attention.
"Define well."
Silas sat down, cradling the baby in his arms.
"We had an honest conversation. She's calm, clear-headed, and knows what she wants. We both agreed that this marriage will be a one-time commitment—and that we'll do it properly."
There was a pause.
"She also said she's open to raising the baby as her own. Whether we go the adoption route or not is up to me… and I think I'll take her up on it."
Marcelle exhaled slowly, eyes glistening.
"You really think she's ready for something like that?"
"She's more ready than most women. And frankly, more emotionally stable too. She said she doesn't want chaos—just honesty, respect, and loyalty."
Stephan gave a low whistle.
"Wow. You might've actually gotten lucky this time, little bro."
"Don't call me that," Silas muttered, but there was no bite to it.
"When will she meet the baby?" Celeste asked, pausing in the middle of unravelling one of her braids.
"This Saturday," Silas said, glancing down at his daughter. "She'll come by the apartment. I'll cook something small and let them get familiar. No pressure. I just want her to meet Jiana in a safe space."
Nia beamed from her seat.
"I like her already. She has a cool name too. Jiana."
Everett nodded.
"You've made your decision. Then all we can do is support it. But make sure she's really ready, Silas. A child is not an accessory to ease guilt—it's a life. And hers just began."
Silas looked up, meeting his father's gaze.
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm trying to do this right."
Marcelle stood and crossed the room, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
"Then we'll help you. When the time comes to plan the wedding, just say the word."
"She wants it small. Private. Just close friends and family," he said.
Marcelle smiled faintly.
"Then that's what we'll give her."
Silas looked down again at the baby girl in his arms—peaceful, warm, safe.
He whispered more to himself than anyone else, "Let's hope she likes you."