“I don’t collect help from strangers. My mommy warned me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, but thank you for pretending to be my daddy today. You tried.”
She adjusted her slippers, picked up her bowl, and marched off into the crowd like a retired landlady.
Leo stood frozen. The heat of Silverline faded. His entire crew watched him in silence, and all he could whisper to himself was, “Who is that child?”
All through his inspection, Leo couldn’t focus. He was absent-minded in meetings, distracted by the sharp-tongued little girl who had clung to him like he truly was her father. Her words replayed in his head.
“Just one egg, sir. She’s treating me like I owe her five years’ rent.”
That night, Leo couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in his bed, haunted by the image of the girl—her confidence, her courage, and most painfully, her voice calling him daddy.
And then he remembered: years ago back in university, his longtime girlfriend Faith had told him she was pregnant. He had just completed his prototype engine. He was broke, desperate, and chasing investors. He had panicked. He shouted at her, told her to get rid of it. That he had no time for a child or any distractions. He gave her money and walked away. He chose his career over her. He had regretted it every day since.
Later, after he became successful, he tried to find her. He searched through social media, old friends, their former lecturers—everyone. But she was gone, disappeared like smoke.
He had often wondered, “Did she keep the baby? Did she terminate it? Was there a child out there who would be about seven now—the same age as that girl from Silverline Junction?”
At 5:00 a.m., Leo got up and got dressed quietly. He couldn’t shake off the weight in his chest. By exactly 8:00 a.m., he called his driver and said, “Take me to Silverline Junction. I need to find that girl.”
Silverline Junction was already alive with movement and noise when Leo’s SUV pulled in again that morning. He scanned the bustling crowd carefully—hawkers, children, buses. But where was she?
Then he saw her in the same dusty, tattered gown, seated by a corner with a cracked plastic bowl in front of her. She was begging again—arms crossed, chin high—watching passersby like a little queen in rags.
Leo’s heart clenched. He stepped out of the car slowly.
The moment she saw him, her face lit up briefly but quickly shifted to suspicion. Her eyes narrowed as she folded her arms tighter.
“You again, mister? Are you trying to kidnap me? Because we don’t have money for ransomo. Just go quietly, please.”
Leo raised his hands, chuckling. “No, I promise I’m not here to kidnap you. I just came to check on you.”
“Check on me for what? You’re blocking me from being seen. Customers won’t give me money if they think I have a rich daddy. You’re standing like a bodyguard. Please shift.”
Leo tried again. “Why are you not in school today?”
She scoffed. “Again with the school talk. See, a girl has needs. I told you yesterday. I have bills to pay. I can’t be sitting in class doing ABC while people are on the road giving money for free. Let’s be realistic, sir.”
He crouched beside her, eyes softening. “You’re very smart.”
She smirked. “That’s what everyone says. So, are you giving me money today or blocking business again?”
Leo motioned to his driver, who returned with a bundle of cash. The girl counted it with sharp eyes, her lips moving as she added quickly. She nodded in approval.
“Thank you. This will really help today. Now I can close early. You’re my best customer this week. You can come again tomorrow. Our working hours are from 6:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. No public holidays.”
He smiled gently. “You always come here alone.”
“Uh uh, mister, that’s too many questions. Are you a journalist? Next thing you’ll be asking where I live and what color my bedsheet is. You’re too inquisitive.”
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