Chapter 31 Meeting Vivian

Chapter 31 Meeting Vivian

POV Aiden

My steps were measured, slow, as I approached the woman. Her back was to me, her attention fixed on Liam, who was laughing, a sound that tightened something in my chest. She knelt before him, her dark hair a shimmering curtain against her pale skin. How could I address her? I didn't even know her name. My throat felt dry, a sudden anxiety prickling my skin.

“Miss?” I tried, my voice a little rougher than I intended.

She straightened instantly, turning with a smooth, professional grace. And then I saw her face. My breath caught. It was like looking at a ghost. More than a ghost – a living, breathing echo of Liana. The same high cheekbones, the elegant line of her jaw, even the slight curve of her lips when she offered a polite, querying smile. The only difference was the color of her eyes – a startling, intense blue where Liana’s were deep brown.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice soft but clear, totally unfamiliar.

Before I could form another word, Liam saw me. His eyes, so like Liana’s, lit up like twin suns. “Papa!” he shrieked, his small arms shooting out, his whole body practically vibrating with excitement. He scrambled away from the woman, making a beeline for me, his little legs pumping.

I swooped him up, his weight a familiar comfort in my arms. He buried his face against my shoulder, clinging to me. It hit me then, a wave of protectiveness so fierce it stole my breath. This little boy, my son, my Liam.

The woman watched us, a gentle amusement playing around her lips. "He's very fond of you," she observed.

"He's my son," I stated, the words feeling weighty, important, a declaration. "I've been looking for him."

Her eyebrows lifted, a flicker of something unreadable in her blue eyes. Not surprise, exactly, more like a dawning understanding. "Ah. Liana mentioned… she mentioned your son." She paused, then offered a small, almost shy smile. "He keeps telling me I look like his mama."

My gaze darted from Liam’s rosy cheek pressed to mine back to her face. My heart thumped against my ribs. It was unmistakable. The resemblance was so strong it was almost unnerving. Liana had talked about her hometown, about having a sister. It finally clicked into place. This had to be her. Liana’s sister.

"He's a very cute boy," she added, her voice softening further.

"Thank you," I managed, still a little thrown by her presence, by her absolute familiarity. It felt like I was standing in front of a mirror, if a mirror could change eye color.

I reached into my inner jacket pocket, pulling out one of the pristine, embossed invitation cards. It was a new batch, just printed, for the hospital opening. The idea had come to me earlier, a sudden impulse. "Here," I said, holding it out to her. "You're invited to the opening of the new children's wing. My hospital. It's… I'd like you to come."

She took the card, her fingers brushing against mine, soft and cool. She glanced down at it, her expression neutral as she read. Her eyes tracked the elegant script, then paused on my name printed at the bottom.

"Aiden," she murmured, her voice testing the name. She looked up, her blue eyes meeting mine directly. "Vivian Whitmore. It's a pleasure to meet you, Aiden."

Vivian. So that was her name. Vivian Whitmore. Sister to Liana Whitmore.

"Vivian," I repeated, a small nod. "The pleasure is mine. Thank you for… watching Liam."

"He was no trouble at all. A delight, actually." She offered another polite smile. "I should get going. I have another appointment."

"Of course." I watched her turn, her steps as graceful as before, and walk away, weaving through the throng of people. I kept Liam in my arms, his head still resting on my shoulder, feeling the phantom echo of her presence, of her unexpected resemblance to Liana. The encounter left me with a strange sense of disquiet, like a puzzle piece found, but not yet placed.

I spotted Liana a few feet away, her brow furrowed with concern as she scanned the crowd. Her relief was palpable the moment her eyes landed on us. She heaved a huge sigh, a sound of profound release.

"Liam! Aiden! I thought I'd lost you two," she exclaimed, hurrying towards us. Her hand went to Liam's back, a gentle, reassuring stroke. "Were you okay, baba?"

Liam squirmed, pushing away from my shoulder. "Papa found me! I saw Auntie Viv!"

Liana froze. The color drained from her face, leaving her pale and stark. Her eyes, wide and suddenly wary, flickered from Liam to me. "Auntie Viv?" she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

"The woman I was just talking to," I explained, gesturing vaguely in the direction Vivian had gone. "Vivian Whitmore. She was with Liam." I paused, then decided to just ask. "She's your sister, isn't she?"

Liana’s jaw tightened. She looked away, her gaze fixing on some distant point over my shoulder. Her silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable.

"Yes," she finally said, the word clipped, devoid of emotion. "She is."

I waited, but she offered nothing more. Her shoulders were stiff, her posture radiating an unseen tension. "You two don't… really talk, do you?" I ventured, careful to keep my tone neutral, observational.

She shook her head, a barely perceptible movement. "No. I… I don't want anything to do with her." Her voice was flat, hard, a stark contrast to her usual warmth.

Her statement hung in the air between us, heavy and unyielding. It was a family matter, something intensely personal. As much as my curiosity was piqued, I knew better than to push. It was rude, intrusive. A line I shouldn't cross. So I didn’t.

"Alright," I said, instead reaching out to gently touch her arm. "Well, Liam was fine. She was very nice to him."

Liana only nodded, her eyes still clouded. The brief encounter had clearly upset her, leaving an unsettling ripple in her usually calm demeanor.

"Shall we find that furniture now?" I prompted, trying to steer the conversation back to our original purpose.

She seemed to snap out of whatever dark thoughts held her captive. A weak, forced smile touched her lips. "Yes. Let's. We need a bed, for sure."

The rest of the afternoon was spent navigating endless showrooms. We looked at sofas, dining tables, chairs, and lamps, trying to envision them in a house we hadn't even truly seen yet. Liana’s mood slowly lifted as she focused on the task at hand, her natural enthusiasm for design beginning to assert itself. She had an eye for quality, a clear understanding of what she wanted, and she wasn't afraid to voice her opinions.

"The curves on this one are exquisite, don't you think?" she'd say, running her hand along a polished wooden armrest. Or, "This fabric feels heavenly. Imagine curling up here with a book."

Liam, after his initial excitement, grew bored quickly. He chased each other through the aisles, played hide-and-seek behind towering wardrobes, and eventually, despite Liana's gentle reprimands, tried to climb a particularly robust display bed. We bought the bed, along with a sturdy dresser, two nightstands, and a child-sized desk for Liam's room. Then, we moved on to the bedding section, where Liana carefully chose soft sheets, fluffy duvets, and an array of decorative pillows. Liam, surprisingly, took great interest in the patterns and colors for his own bed, proudly picking out a duvet cover with rocket ships.

Finally, after what felt like hours of decisions and discussions, we stood at the checkout counter, surrounded by order forms. We provided the address of the new house, arranging for a delivery within the week. The salesperson, after confirming all the details, gave us a precise delivery window.

"All done," I said, as we stepped out of the store, the late afternoon sun already dipping towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the parking lot. I felt a surprising sense of accomplishment, even a quiet contentment. It was house stuff, domestic and ordinary, but doing it with Liana and Liam made it feel profoundly meaningful.

Liana stretched, a small groan escaping her lips. "I think I could sleep for a week. But it's done. And it's going to be beautiful." She glanced at me, and this time, the smile was genuine, untainted by worry or prior upset. "Thank you, Aiden. For everything."

"My pleasure," I replied, meaning it. I reached out, my hand finding hers, and our fingers intertwined naturally. Liam, exhausted from his own brand of furniture store exploration, was already nodding off in the stroller we'd rented. We walked towards the car, the city humming around us, the faint scent of rain on dry pavement in the air. The image of Vivian, Liana’s sister, still lingered at the back of my mind, a silent, unsettling question mark. But for now, with Liana’s hand in mine and Liam sleeping soundly beside us, it could wait.