Chapter 2
I stood at the door, Mabel cradled in my arms. The key was already in the lock, but I couldn't make myself turn it.
The lottery ticket in my pocket burned against my leg like hot coal.
The 3,500 dollars would get us through for now, but how would I even begin to explain this child to Amelia?
Mabel seemed to sense my hesitation. Her tiny, cold hand gently brushed against my face. "Daddy, it's cold," she whispered.
That one word, "Daddy," choked me up. I swallowed hard, took a breath, and finally opened the door.
"What took you so long today?" Amelia called from the kitchen, flour dusted across her apron.
As soon as she spotted the child in my arms, her rolling pin slipped from her hand and clattered onto the floor.
She stammered, "W-Whose kid is she?"
I tried to speak, but my mind went completely blank.
Mabel pressed in closer, clutching my collar with her tiny, dirty hands.
"I-I found her by the roadside," I said.
"Found her?" Amelia's voice shot up, full of disbelief. "Timothy Foster, are you serious? Do you even realize how tight things are? We haven't even paid off Matthew's therapy yet, and now you—"
"I got a bonus at work," I blurted, reaching for my phone to show her the transfer. "Look, 3,500 dollars. That'll cover the rent and Matthew's school."
Amelia froze, eyes flicking between Mabel and me.
When I saw the dark circles under her eyes and the roughness of her hands, guilt slammed into me like a wave.
She finally sighed and said, "Let's... give her a bath first."
But Mabel wouldn't let go. She clung to me, her whole body trembling.
"Don't be scared, Mabel," I whispered. "This is your mom. She'll take good care of you."
Amelia stiffened at the word "Mom," but quickly masked it with a soft smile. "Come here, sweetie," she said gently. "I'll run you a warm bath and then we'll eat something yummy, okay?"
Maybe it was the kindness in her voice that made Mabel slowly loosen her grip.
Amelia lifted her, and her eyes widened at how featherlight the girl was.
Once the bathroom door closed behind them, I sank onto the couch. Only then did I notice Matthew, quietly sitting in the corner with his building blocks.
At six years old, Matthew lived in a world of his own.
Ever since he was diagnosed with autism at age three, he had barely communicated with anyone, rarely even calling us "Mom" or "Dad."
The water stopped running. Amelia stepped out with a freshly showered Mabel.
She was wrapped snugly in Matthew's old pajamas. With her damp hair and wide eyes, she looked like a different child.
"Her body..." Amelia whispered, her voice trembling. "She's covered in wounds. How could anyone do that to a child?"
I didn't respond. I just reached for Mabel and held her tight.
She smelled faintly of Amelia's shampoo, and her pale cheeks were now glowing softly.
"Where are her parents?" Amelia asked.
"They abandoned her," I replied, pulling the crumpled-up adoption papers from my pocket and briefly recounting the incident. "It was... a spur-of-the-moment decision."
Amelia was silent for what felt like forever. I braced myself, waiting for her to erupt.
Instead, she rubbed her temples and said, "Let's eat first."
That night, Amelia somehow managed to cook pork chops— something we hadn't tasted since we both lost our jobs a month ago.
Mabel's eyes widened at the sight of it, but she didn't pick up her fork.
"Go ahead, eat," Amelia said gently, placing a piece of meat on her plate.
Mabel took a small bite, then tears spilled into her food, silent and heavy.
She ate fast, stuffing food in her mouth like it'd be taken away from her.
"Slow down," Amelia said, adding more to her plate. "It's all yours."
Suddenly, Matthew set his fork down and stared at Mabel. He looked at her for a moment, then said clearly, "Mabel."
Both Amelia and I froze.
It was the first new word he'd spoken in two years.
"Matthew, what did you just say?" Amelia asked, her voice shaking.
"Mabel," he repeated, reaching out and brushing Mabel's cheek.
Mabel even smiled, then softly whispered, "Matthew."
Amelia burst into tears.
She walked over, pulled both Mabel and me into her arms, and whispered, "Let's keep her. Her name's Mabel, right? Mabel Foster... It's beautiful."
That night, we set up a temporary bed in Matthew's room.
When I checked on them later, both kids had curled up together—Mabel gripping Matthew's pajama sleeve tightly.
"This child... She's like a gift from fate," Amelia murmured, leaning against me.
The next morning, my phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize.
"Mr. Timothy Foster? This is Innova Tech's HR Department. We're reviewing your application. A senior engineer position just opened. Are you interested?"
I froze.
Innova Tech was the leading local tech company. I applied there a month ago and got rejected.
"The offer includes double your old salary, plus bonuses and dividends," the voice added.
My hand trembled as I mechanically agreed to the interview and hung up.
Amelia walked out of the kitchen with breakfast. "Who was it?"
"Innova Tech," I said, dazed. "They want to interview me today."
Her spoon dropped into the bowl.
Just then, Amelia's phone also rang.
She looked at the screen, covered her mouth in shock, and whispered, "I got the teaching position!"
We locked eyes, stunned, then turned toward Mabel, who was still sleeping peacefully.
Just like that, our struggles seemed to lift. It was almost unreal.
"I'll go pick up some treats to celebrate!" I said, grabbing my wallet and hurrying out.
At the entrance, I ran into our nosy neighbor, Allison Lewitt.
In her sixties and sharp as ever, she missed nothing. She was like an information hub for all the happenings in our neighborhood.
"Timothy," she said, squinting, "I heard there's a new kid at your place. Relative's child?"
A chill crept up my spine. I forced a smile. "Yeah, my cousin's daughter. She's just staying for a bit."
Allison let out a knowing "oh," her eyes narrowing. "She looked like she'd been picked up off the street."
I made some quick excuses and rushed away, but I could still feel her gaze like a laser on my back.
Heading home, I found myself stopping near the lottery kiosk again.
When I got back, Amelia had dressed both kids.
Mabel wore Matthew's old clothes. They were slightly oversized but clean. When she saw me, she gave me a shy little smile.
"Daddy," she said.
That one word melted my heart all over again.
I crouched down and hugged her close. "Good girl, Mabel," I whispered.
Amelia stood watching, smiling gently, though her eyes were clouded with mixed emotions. "I checked her over," she said. "Besides the bruises, she's undernourished. We should take her in for a full checkup."
I nodded in agreement. Then it hit me. "By the way, why is Matthew so calm today?"
Usually, the slightest disruption would throw him off. But now, he was steady, even holding Mabel's hand.
Amelia noticed it too. "Since last night, he's been following her everywhere. It's like he—"
"Like he's already claimed her as his sister," I finished.
Around noon, we all went to the hospital for Mabel's checkup.
The results were better than expected. She was malnourished, had a few old scars, but was otherwise healthy.
"She's a strong little one," the doctor said. "To have endured all that at her age... She deserves all the love you can give."
On the way home, Mabel fell asleep on my shoulder.
Amelia, pushing Matthew's wheelchair, said, "Timothy... don't you think this is fate? Matthew's never connected with anyone like this before."
I looked down at Mabel's sleeping face and felt something inside me loosen.
Maybe this little girl really had come into our lives for a reason.
That evening, Amelia dressed her in new pajamas—pink with tiny flowers, just right for a little girl.
Mabel ran her fingers over the fabric, her eyes sparkling.
Amelia leaned in and asked softly, "Do you like them?"
Mabel nodded eagerly, then stood on tiptoe and kissed Amelia's cheek. "Thank you, Mommy," she whispered.
Amelia burst into tears and hugged her tightly. "My sweet girl... From now on, you're my precious baby."
I stood in the doorway, my chest warm yet tight with unease.
Fate had handed us a miracle. But deep down, I couldn't shake the sense that it might demand a price in return.
Outside, beneath the streetlamp, I saw Allison's silhouette flicker past.