But she isn’t happy.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
No one knows the answer to that question better than her.
“What would make you feel better, Maya?” I ask.“Tell me what you want.”
“Nothing,” she mutters.“Nothing will make me feel better today.”
“The day is still young,” I say as I pull her out of the boutique.“I will drag you to a million different places across this city until you find something that cheers you up.”
I don’t even know why the fuck I’m doing this.
But the truth is that Maya is the sole reason I am enjoying this life. She is the source of every explosive emotion I am experiencing, and if the object of my fixation is sad, the grey returns.
I cannot tolerate the grey.
Maya finally gives in when she realizes I won’t ever take no for an answer.
“An orphanage,” she whispers softly.“Take me to an orphanage.”
Strange request, but whatever she wants.
Except leaving her alone.
I task my security detail with locating the nearest children’s home and have five delivery trucks loaded with toys, clothes, and sweets sent there within thirty minutes.
When we arrive, the trucks are already parked outside, unloading mountains of wrapped gifts.
Maya’s entire demeanor shifts the moment we step inside. I stand back against the wall, watching her interact with the kids. I didn’t have a bad childhood. The only abnormal thing wasme.
So I can’t really relate to these kids.
But she can.
She kneels on the floor, unbothered by the dust, handing out presents. The children crowd around her, laughing and pulling at her sleeves.
Unconditional gentleness rolls off her. She belongs in the light. Too bad I’m never letting her escape my darkness.
Maya looks up from a group of toddlers and catches me staring at her. A mischievous spark flashes in her eyes. She grabs a plastic truck and walks over to me, tugging on my silk tie.
“Get down here,” she commands.
“What?”
“Play with us. You need to make up for your sins too,” she mumbles.
Unlike her, I don’t feel like I need to make up for anything. What’s the point of life if you spend it regretting your actions?
Yes, I did bad things.
Yes, I’m not a good person.
And so what?
But for whatever reason, my heart is frantic.
With a resigned growl, I undo the buttons of my suit jacket and drop to my knees on the floor. The toddlers instantly swarm me, climbing onto my shoulders and grabbing at my hair.
