Seth and I had been trying for a child for way too long, and while I believed that not being able to conceive was something that would brought is closer together, Seth thought otherwise.
“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this…” he said while we were seated opposite each other at the kitchen table.
“What do you mean?” I asked, feeling my heart drop realizing where the conversation was going.
“You know I want children, and time is not on our side, Willa,” Seth said, almost sounding too cold for what he was saying.
“What do you want from me?” I asked. “To walk away? Leave this marriage? Quit fighting for your love?”
Seth didn’t answer, but his silence said more than words.
Before long, I found myself signing divorce papers, leaving my entire life behind, and moving to an old house in Willow Creek.
The granddaughter of the late man the house belonged to was very welcoming. She didn’t ask much questions but helped me feel like home. She would sometimes bring muffins or homemade bread, but there was a quiet acknowledgment between us that we both cherished our personal space.
Days in the old but cozy house, I started hearing sounds coming from the basement, but somehow I was a bit afraid to check it out, fearing there could be an animal that would scare me.
Once, I asked Lauren, the granddaughter of late Mr. Nolan, about the basement, but she said her grandfather had always been very secretive about the place and didn’t let anyone go there. Somehow, no one in the family ever questioned why.
He was an old man in his 70s, living all by himself, so they just assumed he had his personal belongings stored there.
I thought about the basement every now and then, but never dared to get inside, at least not all by myself.
But then, one day, I discovered Mr. Nolan’s big secret.
While I was having my morning coffee, someone knocked on my door. “It has to be one of my neighbors,” I thought to myself. All of my neighbors have been in good spirits, very supporting and friendly.
But I guessed wrong. Instead, two police officers stood at my porch.
“How can I help you?” I asked, a bit confused by their presence.
“Madam, we need to check your basement. This has nothing to do with you, but with the previous owner,” they said. “Have you been to the basement since renting this place?” they asked.
I said I hadn’t because I was afraid to go there myself.
When they went to the basement and started looking around, they found two children.
Seeing the, my heart stopped. “What were those kids doing there?” I asked myself, too afraid to say anything out loud.
“So, there you are!” one of the officers said as he approached the kids. “This basement has been your secret place, hasn’t it?”
The boys, who were between six and eight years old, started crying. “Please don’t take us back to the orphanage,” they pleaded.
The orphanage they escaped from was a couple of streets down my home. And it turned out this wasn’t the first time they managed to escape. Once, they were missing for a whole week before they returned and refused to tell where they were.
The officer turned to the older boy and said, “We know that Mr. Nolan was letting you stay here. He was bringing you food and toys. But that ends now, you’ll go back to the orphanage and you never leave it again – not without permission.”
As the boys were dragged out of the basement, one of them rushed towards me and hugged me tightly. “Please, save us, don’t let them take us. Let us live in your basement.”
I didn’t say anything because I was overwhelmed by the entire experience.
A few days passed by, and I couldn’t stop thinking of the boys. So, I decided to visit them one day.
As I was going towards the orphanage, my heart paced.
Once there, I asked about Max and Tommy. The woman working there told me they were both abandoned by their biological parents and were living there ever since.
I wanted to see them, and they brought them to the office.
“Hi, boys,” I said gently. “How are you doing?”
“Are you here to take us home to your basement? Will you let us live there?” they kept asking.
Their eyes were filled with hope and sadness.
I wanted children for so long. “Could I adopt these two? Would I be a good mother?” A million questions popped up in my mind as the boys pleaded me to take them with me.
“I can’t promise anything, but I am willing to try,” I said.
It didn’t take long before I started the adoption process, which was a long and tiring one, and cost more than I ever anticipated. But at the end of the day, it was worth it.
I finally became a mother of two beautiful boys. They became my world, and it felt good to be theirs.
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Bored Daddy
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