My name is Haitam. Life didn't start easy for me. My mother died when I was only eight years old. Losing her left a hole in my heart that I didn't think would ever heal.
Two years later, my father remarried. Her name was Sarah. She was beautiful—striking even. Thirty years old, with curves that drew eyes without her even trying. But to me, she was more than just her looks. She carried warmth in her smile, and for the first time since my mother's death, I felt like love might return to my life.
Sarah came with two daughters of her own. Evelyne, the elder one, was eleven—wise beyond her years, calm, collected, and always watching over everyone with a quiet maturity. Olivia, the youngest, was my age. She was nothing like her sister—spoiled, playful, childish, and constantly crying when she didn't get her way.
Despite our differences, I saw them as family. For the first time, our house felt like a home again. My father, a workaholic, was rarely there. He provided everything we needed—money, comfort, stability—but his absence left the rest to Sarah. She treated me like her own son, and I loved her, Evelyne, and Olivia as if we shared the same blood.
But happiness in my life never lasted long.
It began with the arguments. Small at first—raised voices muffled behind closed doors. Then louder, harsher, every night like clockwork. Yelling, accusations, tears. For a whole month, the sound of their fights filled the house like a storm that never passed.
One night, as their shouting grew unbearable, I sat with Olivia in my room. She looked frightened, her eyes wide and wet with tears. "Why are they always yelling?" she whispered.
We went to Evelyne for answers. She smiled at us, but I could see the sadness behind her eyes. "Sometimes grown-ups don't get along," she said softly. "They fight and yell, but that doesn't mean everything is broken. Go play, you two. It'll be okay." She ruffled our hair, trying to comfort us.
I took Olivia back to my room and closed the door, hoping to block out the shouting.
"I hate grown-ups," Olivia muttered, trembling. She looked at me with tearful eyes. "Haitam, promise me we'll never leave each other. Promise we'll always love each other."
I opened my mouth. "I prom—"
But I never finished.
The door burst open. Sarah stood there, tears streaming down her face, Evelyne clinging to her side. Sarah's hands were shaking as she grabbed Olivia.
"Pack your things," she choked out. "We're leaving."
Olivia's small hands clung to her mother's arm. "But mom, I don't want to go!"
Sarah ignored her, moving around the room, stuffing belongings into bags through her tears. My heart sank. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I was losing my family all over again.
"Mom, please!" Olivia sobbed. "I don't want to go! I don't want to leave Haitam! I don't want to leave our home!"
Sarah's voice cracked. "There's no place for us here."
Evelyne, always trying to be strong, knelt by her little sister. "Look, sis," she said gently, "sometimes adults don't get along, and they get a divorce. But it's okay. We can still visit Haitam from time to time." Her voice was steady, but her eyes glistened with unshed tears.
And just like that, it was over. Sarah finished packing, snatched up her keys, and stormed out of the house with Evelyne and Olivia in tow. She didn't even glance back at me.
I stumbled after them, reaching the doorway, but they were already gone. The sound of the car faded into the night. I dropped to my knees and cried.
That was when my father appeared. He walked out of his room, expression cold, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder.
"You don't need them," he said, voice sharp and emotionless. "Anyway, I have a business trip. The babysitter will be here soon. Be a good boy and don't annoy her the way she annoyed me."
By "she," he meant Sarah.
That night, I felt something new for the first time: hatred. I hated him, deeply, with every fiber of my being. And I knew—even if the world ended—I would never forgive him.
Chapter Two – Ten Years Later
My father died ten years later. The "old man," as I had come to call him, was gone. I didn't go to the funeral. Why would I? He had been dead to me long before his body failed.
Sarah and her daughters? I never heard from them again. It was as if they had vanished, erased from existence. Maybe they had forgotten me. Maybe they had chosen to. And so, I too stopped searching.
Months drifted by in a blur. My life had become a routine: wake up, shower, eat breakfast, drink my coffee, go to college, come back home, work out, go for a run, eat lunch, sleep. Repeat. Every night, the memory of that night returned—the pain, the loss—and I fell asleep with it still burning inside me.
But one morning, everything changed.
That day, I woke up and found no coffee left. I had forgotten to buy it the night before. Annoyed, I decided to visit the coffee shop on the corner.
The second I walked in, I collided with someone. Hot coffee spilled across my shirt, and books tumbled to the floor.
"I'm so sorry!" a voice gasped. A girl knelt, scrambling for her books. She looked up, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Her voice was soft, her face delicate and sweet. She had a petite frame and wore a uniform that looked just like the ones at my college.
I bent down, helping her gather her things. "Don't worry," I said. "It's my fault too. I didn't see you coming."
She smiled politely, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Let me make it up to you. Your coffee is on me today."
I hesitated. A free coffee wasn't something to turn down. "Well… thank you. Errm—what's your name?"
She extended a hand. "It's Olivia."
I froze. My heart stopped.
"What?" I whispered.
She laughed lightly. "My name is Olivia."
Memories came crashing over me like waves—her tears, her promise, that night when she was dragged away from me forever.
"And you are?" she asked curiously, tilting her head.
I swallowed hard. "I'm… Haitam."
Her smile widened. "Pleasure to meet you, Haitam. So… how do you like your coffee?"
to be continued...