Mary laughed softly, her shoulders shaking as she leaned back in her chair. "This is my first time seeing someone like you. And it is true, you know. If you had said it first, I really would have thought you were naïve. Joining a lowest ranked channel just because you like someone in it, it sounds naïve on paper. But if you had given me some other reasonable excuse, I might have thought highly of you, right?"
"But journalism is about being honest, so I wanted to come clean."
Mary's smile vanished. She straightened, eyes sharpening. "Did the car driver really jump the signal?"
Caught by the sudden seriousness, Isha stammered, "I don, do not know."
"He didn't," Mary said.
Isha blinked, startled.
"But he wasn't sure about it," Mary added calmly. "That is what made us win the argument."
Isha looked even more confused.
Mary exhaled and returned to her usual tone. "I bluffed about the camera recording him jumping the signal. I told him I would show it to the police. If I had not lied, he would never have apologized."
Isha's expression fell, gloomy and conflicted.
Mary reached out and patted her head. "Sometimes you need to lie for something good to happen. And lying is a weapon for a reporter, so stop thinking of it as a sin if you want to become one."
Isha smiled, the familiar gentleness returning. Yet her face glowed faintly under Mary's hand, like she was trying not to beam outright.
Seeing her hold back her excitement, Mary chuckled. "You are a nice girl."
She turned toward the baby, brushing her fingertips gently over his small head. "I always imagined Jack would marry a beautiful girl like you and I would hold a grandchild like this little guy. But some dreams never come true, I suppose."
When she lifted her head, she caught Isha watching her closely, as if silently asking what she meant.
Mary answered with a tired breath. "Jack died two years ago."
Isha's face did not twist with shock or sympathy. Instead, her gaze drifted to the beach photo on the wall, unreadable.
Mary studied her. "You are different from others. Normally people make a sad face and say things like, 'So sad', 'I am sorry for you', 'Try to live on', 'Are you doing well', or they ask how it happened. Mostly they pity me. But you are different. Even though you are a kind person, you did not look sad or say any of that."
Isha offered a thin, honest smile. "I heard someone say once, 'For a mother who lost her child, even gifting her the entire universe would mean nothing.' I can assume how much pain you feel, but I cannot really know. If I said any of those lines, it would feel like mocking you. Words will not bring him back, so I stayed quiet instead of saying something half-hearted."
Mary's eyes softened. She turned back to the baby, watching his peaceful sleeping face. As she smiled, he curled his tiny fingers around hers.
The glow in her eyes brightened. She looked ready to share that joy with Isha, but Isha was staring at a drawing on the wall, lost in thought.
"What are you thinking, Isha?" Mary asked.
"Isn't that the channel's logo?"
"Yes. It is a watching eye. I drew it."
"What is that small flame in the center?"
Mary's brows lifted. "You are good. Most people never notice it. But observing alone will not make you a good reporter."
Isha looked at her earnestly. "Then what will make me a good reporter?"
"Well, let me think," Mary said, amused. "Maybe bringing out the truth?"
Isha nodded seriously. "Okay then, can I try it?"
"I do not know what you are about to try, but go ahead."
Maintaining the same serious look, Isha said, "From reading your articles, starting from 'Rituals of the Sonars Cult' and 'How the Gigantic Hurt an Innocent Five-Year-Old' to 'The Change', and watching all your interviews, and doing some research, I know you never married or dated. You were never pregnant. From that, I believe Jack is not your son. Am I right?"
Mary froze. Her eyes narrowed, turning cold. "How did you know that?"
Frightened, Isha shrank back. "So, so sorry. I did not mean to anger you. You told me to try."
The baby woke and began crying at the rising tension.
Mary inhaled sharply, steadied herself, then patted the baby's stomach until he quieted. Only then did she speak. "I am not angry at you. It is just, it was the first time someone said that to me, so I was taken aback."
Isha lowered her gaze. "It was just a hunch. But meeting you in person… maybe it is a mother thing. I can somehow tell you never gave birth. Your reaction confirmed it."
Mary let out a groan and laughed. "I confirmed it myself, ah!"
Then she made a mock angry face. "You expect me to believe that nonsense? That you just sensed it? And what, I do not look like I gave birth? I may not have carried Jack, but I loved him more than any parent could. I cared for him more than any mother."
Her eyes burned as she leaned closer. "Tell me. Who are you?"
Isha trembled, tears spilling as she cried, "I never thought the person I admire the most, my inspiration for so long, would be this cruel to me."
Hearing her mother cry, the baby wailed again.
Mary rubbed his stomach, but this time he kept crying, louder and louder. Their voices rose together like a storm with no end.
Unease crept into Mary's face. She pleaded for them to stop, but neither did.
"What do you want?" she begged. "Tell me what I should do."
Isha stopped crying at once, and the baby did too. She lifted her face, calm again. "Your life. Tell me about your mysterious life from the beginning."
Mary's expression hardened. "Even my son did not know the whole truth about me, and you want me to tell you? Why would I do that?"
They began crying again, even louder.
Mary tried everything, pleading, bargaining, scolding, but nothing worked. The baby's coughing grew worse, turning her worry into panic.
"Fine!" she shouted. "I will tell you everything from the beginning. Just stop crying, or something might happen to him!"
Instantly, Isha stopped, and the baby followed.
With a warm, impossibly innocent smile, Isha said, "Then tell me from the beginning."
The baby smiled too.
Mary stared at them, baffled, then sighed. "You are strange, but in a good way."
"Will you tell me everything?" Isha asked.
"Yes. I will tell my tale from the beginning. Keep it a secret, or maybe not. I used to hide it because I did not want Jack to know. But he is gone, and I do not even know why I am still keeping it."
She looked down at the baby, brushing a tender hand over his little chest. "Maybe it is time for me to let it go, to let it stop being a secret."