Shadows of power

Chapter Five: The Weight of Regret

Malcolm stood at the edge of the grave, the cold wind biting at his face, yet he felt no chill. He could scarcely comprehend the reality of the moment-the loss of his daughter, Lila. It felt surreal, like an unjust dream from which he couldn't awaken. The funeral was a hushed affair, attended mostly by those who still respected the name of a powerful Gifted, yet he felt the weight of their stares. Whispers danced around him, each word a reminder of his failure as a father.

He remembered the day Lila was born, the joy that swept over him as he held her for the first time. She was perfect, a beautiful little bundle of life. As she grew, it became apparent that she was not like him; she was a Null. For Malcolm, the realization came with a mixture of emotions-love and pride, certainly, but also a creeping disappointment. In a society that glorified power and abilities, he worried for her future, feeling the weight of expectation upon him as her father.

Despite the turmoil, Malcolm loved Lila fiercely. He watched her navigate the world with an unyielding spirit, her laughter echoing through their home like a melody. But when she fell in love with Thomas, a man without power, his affection soured into resentment. She had defied him, choosing a life outside the rigid expectations he had envisioned for her. The anger he felt toward her decision burned deep, a betrayal he couldn't forgive.

When Lila came to him for help, desperate and terrified after Thomas was unjustly imprisoned, he had turned her away. "I will not associate with that man," he had said, his voice cold. "He is a traitor, a terrorist." He recalled her pleading eyes, the way she had begged him to see reason, but he remained steadfast in his refusal. It was easier to close his heart than to confront the chaos of his daughter's choices.

Then came the news of Thomas's death, the violence that had extinguished his life-a life Malcolm had deemed unworthy. When Lila reached out to him again, heartbroken and desperate for justice, he had only offered scorn. "You're wasting your time," he had snapped, the bitterness pouring from him like venom. "He was a coward, and you're a fool for defending him."

Now, as he stood over Lila's grave, the truth of his actions hit him with brutal force. He had declared her dead to him, but it was her death that had truly killed a part of him. She was gone, buried beneath the weight of his pride and prejudice. And in that moment, he realized that he had lost not only a daughter but a chance to mend their fractured relationship.

It was at the funeral that he first laid eyes on Dexter. The boy stood off to the side, his small figure almost lost among the mourners, yet he was unmistakably Lila's son. Malcolm felt a tug in his chest as he approached the boy. Dexter's eyes, so much like Lila's, sparkled with innocence, and despite the somber occasion, he smiled at Malcolm. It was a smile filled with hope, untouched by the shadows that had engulfed his young life.

In that fleeting moment, Malcolm felt something stir within him-a flicker of connection, a whisper of forgiveness that he thought he had buried long ago. After the funeral, he made the decision to bring Dexter to his mansion, driven by guilt and an unspoken desire to care for the child he had only just met.

The grand halls of his estate felt cold and unwelcoming, and as Dexter entered, Malcolm was filled with uncertainty. He had the staff look after the boy while he distanced himself, wrestling with the remnants of his anger and sorrow. Each cry from the child pierced his heart, a haunting reminder of what Lila had lost. Dexter would call out for his mother, and the sound twisted in Malcolm's gut.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. Stepping into the room where Dexter was staying, he found the boy sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming down his face. "I want my mommy," Dexter sobbed, his small body shaking with grief. The sound twisted like a knife in Malcolm's gut, a raw reminder of the void Lila had left behind.

"Dexter," Malcolm began softly, but the words felt heavy on his tongue. He knelt down to the boy's level, forcing himself to meet Dexter's tear-filled eyes. "Your mother loved you very much," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, but it quivered, betraying the turmoil inside him. "She would want you to be happy."

Dexter looked up, his eyes wide and glistening with tears, searching for reassurance. "Do you really think so?" he asked, his voice small and trembling, filled with a child's desperation for comfort.

"Yes," Malcolm replied, though the conviction in his voice was wavering. "She would want you to be strong, just like her."

But as he spoke, the walls he had built around his heart began to crumble. He saw in Dexter not just Lila's son but a reflection of his own regrets-years lost, moments never shared, and the undeniable grief that weighed upon them both. The boy's anguish was a mirror to his own, and Malcolm felt a swell of emotions rising up within him.

"I miss her," Dexter whispered, his voice cracking, and in that moment, Malcolm's composure shattered.

Without thinking, he reached out and pulled Dexter into a tight embrace. The boy fit perfectly against him, fragile and innocent, and Malcolm felt hot tears spill from his eyes as he held him close. "I miss her too, Dexter," he sobbed, his voice muffled against the child's hair. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other's sorrow. Malcolm felt the weight of his grief mix with the boy's pain, creating an unexpected bond that felt both terrifying and comforting. He cried openly, allowing the pent-up emotions to flow, feeling the warmth of Dexter's small body against his chest as the boy clung to him.

"It's okay," Dexter whispered, his little hands gripping Malcolm's shirt as if holding on to the only anchor he had left. "I just want my mommy back."

Malcolm's heart ached at those words, the truth of them striking deep. "I know, I know," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "We'll remember her together. You and I-we'll keep her memory alive."

In that moment, amid their shared grief, something began to heal. It was a fragile connection, one born from loss and longing, but it was a start. Malcolm realized that he had not only found a chance to honor Lila's memory but also an opportunity to forge a new bond with a child he never truly knew.