Chapter 2

2

I raised Mia alone for the next five years. The first two were the hardest. Mia was born prematurely and her health was delicate; we had to go to the hospital twice a month. I resigned from my firm―not because I wanted to, but because when I returned from maternity leave, my desk was occupied by a potted plant.

My boss said, “Eloise, you have a child now. It’s hard to keep taking time off. Why don’t you take a break?” So I took the break. And I never went back.

I started taking freelance work from home. Interior renderings, six hundred dollars a pop. Hotel lobbies, living rooms for mansions, office receptions―I drew them all. Over time, I built a base of regular clients, and we barely made ends meet.

The year Mia started kindergarten, I used my savings to rent a two-bedroom apartment in the old district. The stairs were narrow; every time we moved something, it felt like crawling through a cave. But the balcony faced a river. Mia loved standing there watching the boats go by, sometimes for half an hour at a time.

“Mom, where do those boats go?”

“To far-off places.”

“Will they come back?”

“Some will, some won’t.”

She nodded, as if she understood.

Silas reappeared that autumn when Mia started preschool. He parked a black Range Rover in front of the kindergarten. I saw his request to join the parent group; his profile picture was a city nightscape, and the name was “Silas Sterling.”

I declined the request. Then I called the head teacher: “Do not let this man pick up Mia. He is not her guardian.”

The teacher agreed. But the next day, Mia told me, “Mom, an uncle was standing at the school gate looking at me today. He wore glasses and drove a black car.”

I squatted down and looked at her. “What did he say?”

“He waved at me.”

“Did you say anything to him?”

“No.”

I hugged her. Her small body pressed against my chest, her heart beating fast.