Daycare
The daycare smelled of crayons, milk, and laughter. Little hands clapped in rhythm to songs, little feet stumbled across mats as teachers clapped along. Children with faces full of light ran to meet their parents, their arms wide, voices squealing with joy.
Angelyn watched them.
She had the newest toys, the prettiest dresses, imported snacks packed neatly in colorful boxes. When she pointed at something, it was hers. No one ever told her "no." Not her teachers, not her maids, not even her classmates who envied her.
But when the doors opened at the end of the day, her arms remained at her sides. The other kids leapt into warm embraces. Mothers kissed foreheads. Fathers lifted their children high, laughing. Angelyn waited.
It was always the maids. Always them, smiling politely, holding her bag, asking if she was hungry. Never him. Never the man who gave her his blood but never his love.
Sometimes, at home, she caught glimpses of him. Standing in the doorway. Passing her in the hallway. Sitting at the far end of a dinner table that felt like a sea between them.
And when their eyes met—just for a second—it pierced her.
Those eyes weren't a father's eyes. Not the way the other children's fathers looked at them with pride or softness. No—his eyes carried something else.
Disgust.
Guilt.
Or, worse, nothing at all.
Every time their gazes met, she felt it: as if she were a mistake carved into flesh.
She tried to fix it. She would twirl in her dresses, hoping he'd smile. She shoved her drawings at him, hoping he'd praise her. She waved her dolls in his direction, hoping he'd laugh.
But his eyes always slid away. Or lingered too long, heavy with something she didn't understand. Something she didn't want to understand.
So she stopped trying.
She told herself toys were enough. She told herself sweets were enough. She told herself she didn't need him.
And yet, in the dark, under silk sheets that smelled of nothing but money, she whispered into her pillow:
"Why won't you look at me?"
It was her first wound. Invisible to everyone else. Deep enough to never heal.
End of Piece One.
CHAPTER END 🫠