Chapter 5. The Bitter Feeling of the Injustice

Ayana’s POV

“First, princess, stop calling him uncle because he is too young for that name. And second…”

Ahem!

I snap at Robby as he clears his throat, obviously not concurring with what I said. “Don’t mind your mommy, chubby doll. I am Uncle Robby to you, and no one should tell you otherwise.” Robby says it in his soft but deep voice. He does not even care to spare me a glance as they hi-five, smiling as if they want to light the whole world with their smiles. Or as if there is any deeper bond between them.

Well, isn’t he getting too comfortable with my child now? I mean, I don’t mind it, but...

“Okay, Uncle Robby. Take care of Mommy while I take a nap. I am really sleepy.” And just like that, Lyana, my sweet baby, does not even kiss me like she always does before going to bed. She just closes her eyes, snuggles into the duvet, and drifts off to sleep, into the world of peace where monsters like my family don’t exist.

She knows absolutely nothing about the outside world. She knows no place aside from this cage and the compound, which even has limits to how far we can go. My poor baby!

What does fate have in store for her? She should be in school, but she isn’t. Why? Because no one should know that there is a bastard child in the honorable De Mario family. Ayana Salma mysteriously disappeared into thin air, and no one has raised a shite about my whereabouts.

My family would rather die than let society know that their daughter got a child out of wedlock and was rejected like trash. For that reason alone, not even my child’s shadow can be seen by the ghosts.

That is why she has not reported to school even if she is of age. The best plan my family could ever come up with some months ago, when I pleaded with them to allow me to enroll her in school, was that I should let one of our servants register her as her own. Absurd, right? Like, do I, Ayana Salma, hand over my own child to some other person?

What kind of parent would ever do that? What kind of mother would I be to do that to my child? What in God’s name would that even make me?

That is the most disgusting and absurd thing I have ever heard in my entire life. That was my very first time, after almost six years, showing them my smile because I laughed at their faces like a possessed, infuriated lioness. I mean, what insolence, right? Can you imagine the animosity of these people?

I sent them to hell with their stupid idea, and I am not willing to do it, even if it means my child will remain uneducated for the rest of her entire life. I am not compromising anything when it comes to my child at all.

Her father denied her when she was just a seed in my womb. Same with them—these people I call family. She does not have a surname on her birth certificate. And now they expect me to hand her over to someone else? To bear someone else’s name? In the freaking name of what?

So she will start calling someone else’s mother? I will share her with another person. She will be out there receiving awards for her accomplishments, and I cannot even be there for her. I will never be acknowledged as her mother. Someone else will be taking credit for the child’s brilliance on the outside, while I will be here clapping for her success in this cage?

Call me mean, selfish, or anything you want, but there is no way I would allow such things. I cannot handle that, and I don’t even think my child would either. The world can say whatever they want about my decision. I stand to be accused and judged, but this is my decision. I am Ayana Salma, and I have my own beliefs and my own opinions. I can never right this!

Never! Not for anything in this world. Not now, and not even in the future.

And if there is one thing I have learned and embraced pretty well—if there is one very valuable lesson that life has taught me in these more than five years—it is standing up for what I believe in and taking full responsibility for all of my actions.

Lyana is my responsibility alone. I am not proud of messing up my life back then the way I did. I was responsible for thinking with my heart and not with my mind back then. I still blame myself for loving someone and entrusting my all to him so blindly, but I am so proud of the priceless gift that my mistake brought about. I am not ashamed of being called a single mother. I could show her to the world if I could, and I will someday. I cross my fingers for that!

Yeah, someday. It doesn’t hurt to hope, right? So I am bracing my hopes, but until then, there is no freaking cursed soul that will give my own child a name as long as I am alive—she is Lyana Angel Salma, as long as I live.

“You will tear the duvet if you do not calm yourself.” Robby’s voice startles me.

I did not realize I was digging my nails into the poor duvet. I shake off the conflicting thoughts in my head, and I stand up, heaving a sigh as I stroll to the open window close to my painting area. Sometimes I just wish I could fit in this window. I would leave this cage with my child and never return to this cursed place.

This is the only place I get the liberty to sip the fresh aura most of the time. I can count the few times I have been allowed to step outside this cage. And when I do, there is always a boundary to how far my daughter and I can wander and also a limit on how much we can interact with servants. A word beyond the salutations is taboo! What hell do I live in, right?