"Ethan! Ethan, where are you going in this weather?" Margaret Cole's voice rang from behind, sharp and desperate.
But her son didn't stop.
Ethan's shoes splashed through the puddles as he rushed toward the one place that made sense—Maya's father's house. She said she'd be there.
But when he arrived, the sight that greeted him crushed what little hope he had left.
The house was empty. Not a single piece of furniture remained. No trace of her. Nothing.
His breath hitched.
Where… where did she go?
Then it struck him like lightning.
The hospital.
He sped through the streets, rain pelting down mercilessly as he reached the hospital's front desk.
"Is… is Dr. Maya Cole here?" he asked, voice shaky.
The nurse looked up. "Sir… Dr. Maya resigned two days ago. She didn't leave any forwarding details."
The world tilted.
Resigned? Left without a word?
He was too stunned to respond. "Th–thank you," he mumbled, barely audible, and turned around.
Rain welcomed him once again as he stepped outside.
Maya had always loved dancing in the rain—arms wide open, spinning barefoot like a child.
He used to laugh, call her silly. But now… that memory clawed at his chest.
Where are you, Maya? You know I can't live without you. Did you really leave me… forever?
The answer was silence.
He returned home soaked from head to toe, hair clinging to his face, shirt heavy with rain.
Margaret rushed toward him. "Oh dear, why are you soaked? Where did you—"
He brushed past her without a word.
Straight to his study.
The moment the door shut, the dam broke.
He tore through the room—papers, books, frames—all crashed against the wall. His hands trembled, chest heaving. And then he dropped to his knees.
"Maya…"
But only silence answered.
---
Six Years Later...
"Corners or no corners?"
"No corners, Mom!"
A soft giggle echoed through the warm kitchen.
Maya turned around with a bright grin. "Alright, alright. One corner-free, love-filled sandwich coming right up for my little prince."
Seated at the table was a five-year-old boy with bright eyes and a cheeky smile—Noah Sinclair.
Maya's son. Her miracle. Her reason for breathing.
Born just months after she vanished from Ethan's life.
He looked like his father—eerily so. Same messy dark hair, same deep eyes, even the way he furrowed his brow when he was confused.
But everything else—his cheeky grin, his sweet nature, his stubbornness—that was all Maya.
"Mom, you're gonna be late!" Noah chirped, swinging his legs.
"Yes, yes, Your Royal Highness," Maya said with a dramatic bow, slipping the sandwich into his little lunchbox.
They walked to the car together, hand in hand.
Noah climbed into his car seat, buckling up like a little pro.
"Mom," he said suddenly, "you're the coolest mom in the world when you drive."
Maya laughed as she slid into the driver's seat. "Yeah? But my son is the coolest, smartest, cutest, most charming little boy in the universe."
Noah beamed. "Yes, Mom!"
And with that, they drove off...
They arrived at the towering building with glass panels gleaming under the morning sun. The large bold letters read: Sinclair Industries Limited.
Once just a small clinic run with trembling hands and hopeful eyes, it had grown into one of the leading names in the medical industry—all thanks to Maya's relentless perseverance.
Inside her office, Noah sat on the leather couch, munching on the last bit of his sandwich.
"Mom, do we really have to leave to the capital?" he asked, brushing crumbs off his lap.
"Yes, Noah," Maya replied as she gathered some files. "Mom has a branch opening there, but the problem is... I can't trust anyone here to handle it. So we must leave in two days."
Her words brought back a recent memory—her father pacing the living room furiously, his voice low but sharp.
"Maya, this is foolishness! Taking Noah there? That place... that psychopath is there."
She had laughed it off. "Dad, I'm going there to fix a few small issues and then we'll come back. You're being dramatic."
Her mother had chimed in gently, "Let her go, dear. You know Maya—she's long moved on. Trust her."
Her father only grumbled, "Whatever..."
Maya snapped back to the present as Noah's next question cut through the air like a cold breeze.
"Mom… where is my father?"
She froze.
"Fa–father?" Her fingers halted mid-motion. "Why are you suddenly asking that?"
"I heard you talking to Granny last week... something about him," he said innocently, blinking at her with those familiar eyes—the ones that once haunted her every dream.
Her mind whirled. You never tried to hide it, Maya… he was bound to ask someday.
She placed the files down and looked at her son. Calmly, yet with a storm inside her, she said:
"Your father… his name is Ethan Cole."