•Beginning•

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•Beginning•
/bɪˈɡɪnɪŋ/
The point in time or space at which something begins.

"A boy needs his father, Arian!" The woman shouted outraged at the her husband who was too busy packing clothes in the suitcase.

"Tell me Eleanora, is he really my son?" Her husband yelled while continuing to throw his clothes in his bag angrily.

Eleanora stood for still for a moment, at a loss of words, tears brimming her eyes as her beloved husband accused her of cheating on him.

"You-you think Kaden is not your son? You think I would have cheated on the love of my life! Are you out of your goddamn mind!"

Fury overcame the petite woman as she forgot why she was arguing with him in the first place, being blinded by the anger that rushed through her she lunged at him. Arian caught her arms which were repeatedly hammering against his chest, her long golden locks flinging around wildly. "Stop it!"

When she wouldn't and he finally had enough, he gripped her arms tightly and threw her to the other side of the bed straight to the floor.

The poor woman landed on her arm and left side of her chest, her face scraping the carpeted floor slightly. She yelped and cried as a horrid pain radiated through her injured body parts, "He will-" Eleanora breathed deeply "hate you for this."

Arian shrugged with his shoulder as his left eye twitched. "He isn't my son anyway so that little bastard can hate whoever the fuck he wants."

Heavy footsteps approached the door making the young boy jump away and hurry down the hallway to his bedroom, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes as he recalled the conversation he eavesdropped, he heard a loud boom making him feel concerned that something happened to his lovely mother.

Minutes later the little guy heard the front door close so he leaped to his feet, instantly sprinting out of his room to the big bedroom of his parents. By the time he reached his mother, she was already sitting up on the floor with her back against the wall as the moonlight shone beautifully on the gorgeous woman.

"Mama? Mama are you okay?" Her son asked worried as he kneeled beside her holding her hand.

"I'm fine just a little hurt, baby."

The boy's eyebrows rose "Are you sure, Mama? Do you want me to get you something?" With only being six almost seven years old he was a genuine, well mannered, little guy gifted with extreme intelligence and handsome features.

Eleanora smiled. "A glass of water would be nice. Can you bring me one, my baby?"

Immediately he was standing wanting to help his mother as much as he could "Yes, of course!"

As little Kaden hurried to the kitchen, his mother tried to stand up but the pain on one side her ribs refrained her from doing so the first few times. Finally, Eleanora stood up and grabbed her phone which was laying on her nightstand, dialing a number she never thought she would have to call again.

"Chi parla?"
(Who is this)

Her breath wavered, oh goodness.

" Sono io Eleanora."
(It's me Eleanora)

"Ele-Eleanora? Oh mio Dio, sei davvero tu?" The man replied, not believing that she had really called him, he was baffled, tears formed and his throat closed.
(Oh my god, is it really you?)

"Yes, Papa, it's me."

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