Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Lisa's pregnancy was progressing beautifully, and with each passing day, her mood grew lighter, brighter. She found herself smiling more often, humming softly when alone, and waking up with renewed energy. The darkness that once clouded her heart was slowly giving way to calm and comfort.
Abel's mother played a significant role in that transformation. With gentle care and affection, she helped Lisa settle in fully. Their bond had grown deeper, more like mother and daughter. As trust developed between them, Abel's mum began speaking more frequently about her family, especially Abel.
At first, Lisa found it difficult. The mention of his name would send a sharp, cold jolt down her spine. Abel was still a ghost in her mind, a symbol of trauma and confusion. But Abel's mother was wise and sensitive. She never forced the subject; she simply dropped bits of information here and there, stories from his youth, how he used to hide his vegetables under the table when he didn't want to eat, how he once brought home a stray dog and begged to keep it, or how he would sneak into her room just to fall asleep beside her when he had nightmares.
Lisa listened, sometimes politely, sometimes distractedly. She could see the love Abel's mother held for her son. And the more she heard, the more she struggled to match the kind-hearted boy in those stories with the man she had met on that disturbing day. It didn't add up. The personality described didn't fit a cruel or dangerous man. Yet, that encounter haunted her still.
What troubled Lisa even more were the photos. Abel's mum had shown her several albums, filled with pictures of Abel at around eighteen or older, laughing with friends, suited up for formal occasions, caught mid-thought in candid shots. But none, absolutely none, showed him as a child. Not a single photo of him in diapers, no birthday parties at age five, no school plays, no family holidays with him as a little boy. And in all the pictures, Abel's parents were absent.
Lisa didn't dare ask why. Something about the family, though warm and loving, was undeniably mysterious. There was an unspoken boundary, a carefully maintained illusion. But what were they hiding? Why go through all the trouble of faking an entire childhood? She wanted to ask Nina, who by now had become quite close to her. But she remembered vividly how Nina had once lied to her, claiming to be just a family friend at the hospital. That lie, subtle as it was, now made it impossible to trust her completely.
Her head throbbed with the weight of unanswered questions. As the thoughts grew louder, so did her headache. She tried to appear composed, but Abel's mum noticed something wasn't right. With quiet tact, she changed the subject, distracting Lisa with freshly baked snacks and stories about baby names.
Lisa appreciated the effort. She knew Abel's mum cared, and that only made her feel more conflicted. On one hand, she was deeply grateful for everything this family had done for her. On the other hand, she couldn't shake the sense that she was living in a perfectly decorated lie. So, she made a decision, for now, she would drop it. She'd stop chasing shadows and let the truth reveal itself when the time was right.
Still, the effect Abel had on her hadn't completely faded. Sometimes, just seeing his face in a photograph would make her heart race, her breathing grow shallow. She'd smile politely in front of Abel's mum, but once alone in her room, she would feel physically sick, sometimes to the point of vomiting. The nightmares returned occasionally, too, though not as frequently or as intensely as before. She was tired of feeling this way.
Determined to stop letting a ghost control her, Lisa began exposing herself slowly to the images. She would pause by the photos hung in the hallway, take a moment to study them instead of avoiding them. Bit by bit, she stopped flinching. Eventually, she could hear Abel's name without her stomach turning. It wasn't healing, exactly, but it was a start.
Abel's mum noticed the change. She watched Lisa with pride and hope, waiting for the right moment. And one sunny afternoon, while they sat on the veranda enjoying some fruit and cold juice, she decided it was time.
"Luiza, my dear," she began gently, "I've been thinking... about bringing Abel back home."
Lisa froze for a moment. Her hand, holding a slice of melon, paused mid-air. The words caught her off guard. She hadn't expected this so soon. Her heart pounded, but outwardly, she remained composed.
"I know my child has his own house," Abel's mother continued, her voice tinged with sadness, "but that is not a home. Home is where the parents are. I miss that child so much. But please, if you're not ready for this, I will completely understand."
Lisa took a slow breath, placing the melon gently back on the plate. She met Abel's mother's eyes and gave a small, steady smile.
"Well, ma'am," she said calmly, "your child is free to come home anytime. I've been here for four months now. From all that you've shared with me, I don't believe Abel is a bad person. I think whatever happened during our first encounter, he may have had his reasons. And when he's ready, I'll be here to hear him out."
"Are you sure about this?" asked Abel's mother, her brows knitted with concern.
Lisa didn't answer with words. She simply nodded and smiled again, her eyes soft and sincere.
She reached out, taking Lisa's right hand in both of hers. "I'm so sorry, dearest. If you're not ready, we can wait longer."
"No," Lisa said with surprising conviction. "I feel sorry for your child. I took his place, and I know what it feels like to miss your parents. I think he's going through what I am, in his way. It's okay. There's no need to worry."
Abel's mother exhaled, clearly relieved. "Thank you so much. I promise you, he will apologize properly. I just hope there can be peace between the two of you."
She paused, then her eyes lit up with a glint of mischief. "Oh! Speaking of peace and harmony, how about a little date?"
Lisa's eyes widened in horror. "A date?!"
She nearly choked on her juice, coughing as she looked at Abel's mother in disbelief.
"Yes! It wouldn't be long…"
"No, no, no, no, ma'am," Lisa interrupted, holding up her hands. "With all due respect, I don't think I can even last five minutes at the same table with your son. It would be tense, uncomfortable, awkward... I don't want to set myself up for regret."
Abel's mum laughed softly. "I'm sorry, I got ahead of myself. I was just so excited."
"That's one reason," Lisa replied, easing into a smile, "the other is that I am very, very pregnant to be going on any dates."
They both burst into laughter, the tension melting away.
That evening, Abel's mum discussed the matter with Abel's father. He agreed wholeheartedly, it was time for Abel to come home, but they would give Lisa enough space to prepare herself emotionally.
Meanwhile, far from home, Abel was living in frustration.
He had devoted every waking hour to solving the riddle that was Lisa's past. He had temporarily set aside key operations, assignments that only he could handle, just to focus on unraveling the truth. But no matter how much he invested, it was like chasing shadows. His elite team of researchers, experts who could retrieve classified files from military archives, intercept encrypted transmissions, and even locate information hidden underwater or high in the clouds, had hit a wall.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
It became obvious to Abel that whatever happened in the Stevens family had been deeply buried. Only four people seemed to know the truth: Lisa, Carol, Susan, and her husband. And if anyone else did, they were likely gone. Silenced.
This made Abel feel something he rarely felt: defeated. And yet, his curiosity only deepened. He paced his home like a caged animal, restless and sleepless. He contemplated reaching out to Susan, but he knew how slippery she could be. She'd only lie or dance around the truth. For a moment, he even thought of using force, but he knew that would only bring him back to square one.
Lisa, on the other hand, seemed easier to crack. In Abel's eyes, she was too gentle, too emotionally vulnerable, and more stupid than Susan. He believed that with a little effort and the right approach, he could extract the truth from her.
But how?
He had been banished from home. Their first meeting had been a disaster. Their relationship, if it could even be called that, was worse than that of strangers. And this…this…was the one thing Abel had never been good at: mending broken relationships, apologizing, and especially... coaxing.
Each time he thought about how to approach her, he sighed heavily, knowing it would be the most complicated task he'd ever faced.
Then, one evening, his phone buzzed. It was a message from his mother.
For the first time in weeks, Abel smiled.
It felt like the heavens had finally decided to show him some mercy.