"Enough!" I interrupted, then realized my tone was too sharp.
Sofia flinched, her tears flowing harder.
I pulled her into a hug, letting her cry in my arms. Unbeknownst to me, their relationship had grown close enough for her to call him "Alex." I had to do something—block that hole right away and reinforce the entire fence—before things got worse.
Because I didn't know how to explain it. I couldn't tell her that "Alex" was actually her father. I couldn't tell her I was doing this to protect her.
So I just held her, let her cry, and let her hate me.
The next few days only got more complicated.
Early the next morning, I went to the hardware store, bought boards and nails, and sealed that hole under the fence completely. Sofia watched from the window, her eyes red, but she didn't say a word.
But Alexander didn't give up. He found other ways to insert himself into our lives.
Monday morning, as I headed out to work, I discovered my tire was flat. While I stood there flustered, he appeared with a toolbox, saying he'd just noticed it and could change it to the spare.
Tuesday evening, Sofia and I returned from the supermarket loaded with bags I could barely carry. He showed up, claiming he was just passing by, and helped bring everything inside.
On Wednesday, the lawn needed trimming. Before I could call agardener, he came over with his mower, saying he was doing his own anyway and might as well do mine too.
Every time, I wanted to say no. Every time, he gave me a reason I couldn't refuse.
And Sofia... she got so excited whenever she saw him, completely ignoring my warnings. She'd watch him from the window, her eyes full of longing.
I knew what he was doing. He was proving his value through actions, using them to get closer to us, to her. And I... I felt powerless to stop it.
Because his help was genuine, and it was help I actually needed.
Worse still... I found myself getting used to his presence. Used to seeing him in the yard in the mornings, used to his occasional assistance, used to the way Sofia's face lit up with smiles when he was around.
It scared me. Because it meant my defenses were starting to crumble.
Friday evening, disaster finally struck.
I was in the kitchen preparing dinner when I heard strange noises from the bathroom—rushing water, growing louder by the second.
I ran in and froze. The pipe had burst, water spraying out like a fountain, flooding the floor and spreading quickly into the living room.
"Oh God!" I exclaimed, rushing to find the main shutoff valve—but I had no idea where it was.
"Mom, what's wrong?" Sofia came running.
"Stay back!" I shouted. "There's too much water—you'll slip!"
I desperately tried to block the leak with towels, but it was pointless. The force of the water just pushed them aside. I was on the verge of tears—damn it, why now? Plumbers would be off duty at this hour, and even an emergency call would take at least an hour...
That's when I heard the knocking. Loud, urgent—more like pounding with fists.
I hurried to the door and opened it—
Alexander was standing there, toolbox in one hand,a brand-new pipe in the other. Concern was written all over his face as he glanced past me at the water spreading across the floor.
"I heard the water," he said. "Pipe burst?"
"How did you—"
"I've been keeping an eye out," he interrupted, his tone urgent. "This house is old; I knew something like this would happen eventually. Let me in."
