The Outcast's Rebirth

CHAPTER 30: Between Love And Uncertainty

The next day....

Maryanne’s eyelids fluttered as she stirred awake, the soft remnants of sleep still clinging to her. For a brief moment, she felt the ghost of a kiss on her cheek—Winston’s kiss—delicate but fleeting, just like him. Before she even opened her eyes, she knew he was already gone, just as he always was.

The cold emptiness of the bed next to her confirmed it. She lay still for a while, staring at the ceiling, the intricate patterns of the wallpaper in the morning light a blur to her distant gaze.

It was Saturday. There was no rush today, no obligations pulling her out of bed, so she allowed herself the rare luxury of sleeping in, letting the minutes slip by in quiet contemplation. It was nearly 10 a.m. when she finally stirred again, her eyes drawn to the father clock in the corner of their grand room—the same room where so much of her life had unfolded.

  The same room where she had been deflowered, where she had conceived Aethel, their firstborn. The memories of those moments, once filled with hope and passion, now felt like distant echoes of a life she barely recognized.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and her servants entered, carrying a tray of breakfast.

  They placed it carefully on the side table beside her bed. The meal was exquisite—fruit, pastries, eggs, and tea. It was everything a lady of her station could expect. Yet, as she took her first bite, the food tasted bland, tasteless, her appetite dulled by the weight of her thoughts.

She lay back against the pillows, her mind swirling with memories and unanswered questions. How had things become so strained between her and Winston? When had the distance between them grown so vast that it felt unbridgeable?

The man she had once loved so deeply, the father of her children, now felt like a stranger. Their relationship had gone thin, stretched to the breaking point, almost at the verge of snapping altogether.

Her thoughts inevitably drifted to her sons—Aethel, her firstborn, and Theodore, the newest addition to their family. They were Winston’s legitimate heirs, his bloodline continuing through them. But there was another boy, the one who didn’t quite fit, the little jolly boy with the tight curls and the strange resemblance to her husband. Ethan.

She couldn’t deny the boy’s charm—his innocent laughter, his bright eyes—but his very existence was a constant reminder of the betrayal that gnawed at her heart.

And then there was Kyzzu. The thought of him filled her with a strange, uneasy mixture of confusion, curiosity, and resentment. A man who had birthed a child. A man who, despite his undeniable beauty and strange allure, seemed utterly unnatural.

  It wasn’t hatred that she felt, but rather a deep, gnawing confusion that made it impossible for her to rest.

Maryanne sighed, her hand resting on her forehead as a thousand questions raced through her mind, each one louder than the last. How had Winston met him? Was he forced into this? Or was he complicit? Why did he look so different, so unnatural? And how on earth had he borne a child?

"Why... why... why..." she whispered to herself, feeling her frustration rise with each unanswered question.

Unable to sit still any longer, she stood up, her body moving with an agitated energy. She had to shake this feeling off, had to distract herself from the endless loop of questions.

  Tomorrow was Sunday, and every Sunday she took her children—Ethan included—to church. Aethel had taken to the practice easily, while Ethan, well, the boy was still young, still adjusting to everything in this world.

But tomorrow, she thought with a determined air, she would not let the day pass without confronting Kyzzu. She had done it once before, but this time, there was no need for sneaking around. No, this time she would ask Winston to accompany her.

  Let’s see how you deal with this now, dear husband, she thought bitterly.

After freshening up and attending to her newborn, she left the nursery and walked through the grand halls of their estate on barefoot.

She felt the coolness of the marble under her feet, the soft murmur of servants in the distance, the warmth of the sunlight streaming through the large windows. She made her way to the rose garden, where Aethel and Ethan often played.

As she approached the garden, the sound of laughter greeted her, high-pitched and joyful. She paused at the entrance, watching from a distance as Aethel and Ethan chased each other through the bushes, their carefree giggles filling the air. They screamed comically as they dodged each other, their small bodies moving with the boundless energy of youth. It was a rare moment of pure innocence, and for a brief second, Maryanne allowed herself to smile.

Despite everything, despite the tension in her marriage, the confusion surrounding Kyzzu and Kazi, she couldn’t deny the warmth that filled her heart when she saw her sons playing like this.

She didn’t hate Kazi—how could she hate an innocent child? And as for Kyzzu… no, it wasn’t hatred she felt. It was confusion, perhaps even fear.

Fear of the unknown, of the unnatural. But the one who had put them all in this impossible, absurd situation was Winston. Her husband. The man who had once been her everything and was now a stranger.

She watched the boys for a while longer, her gaze softening as they tumbled through the garden, oblivious to the heavy burdens their parents carried.

How could it have come to this? she wondered. How did we end up here, living separate lives under the same roof? Her heart ached with the weight of it all, but she knew that tomorrow, with Winston by her side, she would seek the answers she needed. She would face Kyzzu head-on, and perhaps, just perhaps, she would finally begin to unravel the truth behind this tangled web of lies, betrayal, and secrets.

But for now, she let the warmth of the afternoon sun and the sound of her sons’ laughter soothe her troubled mind, even if only for a little while.