Excerpt from Chapter 1, "A Heart Racing"

“I can hear you worrying,” Aunty said, her voice soft but firm. “It’s just a check-in, Lillian. She’s just making sure you’re still happy, and that we’re sill feeding you and giving you clothes.” She chuckled, but the humour didn’t quite reach Lillian’s heart.

Lillian stepped back into the kitchen, put her plate in the dishwasher and sighed loudly, making sure Aunty could hear her frustration. “I know, I know. I just... I still get nervous my mother will appear someday and want me back.”

Aunty also sighed but she did it quietly so Lillian couldn’t hear her. This was a fear that weighed on Aunty too. Deep down, she wished Lillian’s mother could someday return, but not until she had overcome the sickness that had consumed her life. Aunty shook her head as she glanced at Kokum, her own mother. She hoped with all her heart that Lillian could find peace without the constant fear of not having a place where she truly belonged. Together, they had worked so hard to give her that sense of safety.

Aunty caught Lillian’s eye, her gaze softening with a tenderness that always seemed to calm the storm inside Lillian, if only for a moment. She didn’t push, didn’t pry—Aunty never did. Instead, her voice lowered, warm and steady, as if sharing an unspoken truth. “There’s so much joy in this world, Lillian. But sometimes, there’s sadness too. The Creator gave you a special gift, and with it, a wisdom far beyond your years.”

Lillian’s throat tightened. She wasn’t sure if she liked that gift, or the so-called wisdom it brought. But before she could dwell too long, Aunty’s serious tone melted into something lighter, playful, a glimmer of the sparkle she often used to pull Lillian from her darker thoughts.

“Now, off you go. Wash up for Mrs. Beasley, before she thinks we let you run around like a wild little beastie.”

Lillian managed a half-smile, a sliver of relief, before she turned down the hallway. But the weight didn’t lift. The worry still buzzed in her mind like a trapped fly—about Mrs. Beasley, about the boy on the bike, about the gnawing fear that everything in her life, everything she loved, could vanish in an instant.

As she passed the window, something pulled her gaze, like an invisible hand tugging at her attention. And there he was. The boy. Sitting on his bike, staring at the street with that unnerving stillness. Only this time, the smirk—the one that had taunted her for days—was gone.

In its place, something darker. Sadder. His face was drawn, hollowed out by an emotion she couldn’t name, something far heavier than the smugness she’d grown used to. Lillian’s heart stuttered in her chest as she leaned closer to the glass.

Were those... tears?

Before she could even begin to make sense of what she was seeing, he vanished. Just like that—gone. As if the wind had swept him away.

“Dang it,” Lillian muttered, her pulse quickening, her breath catching. “Now what?”