“We are,” David said, helping her in. “It’s like a spaceship,” she whispered, running a hand over the leather seats. “Something like that.” During the drive to the Gold Coast, Maya kept her nose pressed to the window, mesmerized by the Chicago skyline.
She asked questions about the buildings and the lake. “Is your house big?” she asked. “It’s plenty big for the two of us,” David replied. “Does it have a TV?” “It does.” “And a bathtub?” “A few of them.”
Maya’s eyes lit up. “I’ve never had a real bubble bath.” Every revelation of her life of deprivation was like a small knife to David’s heart. How had she survived this long? When they arrived at the penthouse, the doorman greeted David with a respectful nod, though he did a double-take at Maya.
The private elevator took them straight to the top floor. When the doors opened into the foyer, Maya gasped. “Do you live in a palace?” she whispered. David looked around his home through her eyes. The high ceilings, the modern art, the stunning view of Lake Michigan.
Everything that had become routine to him suddenly looked extraordinary. “It’s not a palace,” he said, feeling strangely self-conscious. “It’s just a big apartment.” Mrs. Gable, a warm woman in her sixties who had looked after David for years, was waiting for them.
“Mrs. Gable, this is Maya,” David said. “She’s staying with us. Maya, this is Mrs. Gable. she helps me take care of the place.” “Hello there, dear,” Mrs. Gable said warmly, her maternal instincts immediately kicking in. “Hello,” Maya said shyly.
“Mrs. Gable, could you help Maya with a bath? I think she’d like to try out the bubbles.” “Of course,” Mrs. Gable said, reaching for Maya’s hand. “Come along, honey, let’s get you settled.” Maya looked at David for reassurance. “It’s okay,” he promised.
“Mrs. Gable will take care of you. I’ll be right here. We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?” Maya hesitated but then followed Mrs. Gable down the hall. Before she disappeared, she turned back one last time. “This isn’t a dream, right?” she asked in a small, vulnerable voice.
“No, Maya,” David said, feeling a strange tightness in his chest. “It’s not a dream.” Left alone in his vast living room, David sat down on the sofa and exhaled. He tried to process the last few hours. His life, so carefully structured and predictable, had been completely upended by a hungry little girl.
The next morning, David woke up earlier than usual. He felt a strange sense of urgency. He showered quickly and headed toward the guest suite. He stopped at the door, hesitating. What if she’d left in the middle of the night? What if this was all a mistake?
Years of business skepticism made him wary. He knocked softly—no answer. He knocked again, a bit louder. Silence. Heart racing, David turned the handle and pushed the door open. The sight that met him instantly melted his doubts.
Maya was fast asleep in the middle of the king-sized bed, almost disappearing among the white linens. She was wearing the pink unicorn pajamas Andrew had picked out. Her face was completely relaxed. Her curls, now clean and brushed thanks to Mrs. Gable, were spread across the pillow.
Next to the bed, on the floor, she had neatly laid out all the gifts David had bought her. The clothes were in tidy stacks, the shoes lined up, the toiletries arranged by size. It was as if she was afraid they might vanish if she didn’t keep them close. David felt a lump in his throat.
He closed the door quietly, deciding to let her sleep. It was likely the first real rest she’d had in a very long time. In the kitchen, he found Mrs. Gable starting breakfast. “Morning, Mr. Miller,” she said, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Is she still asleep?”
Comments are closed.