Page 50 of Maar's Girl

My son. The realization crashes over me like a tidal wave, leaving me stunned and breathless. I never knew, never even suspected. The child I didn't know existed until this very moment stands before me, a living, breathing testament to the life I left behind. My heart races, a mix of shock, joy, and an overwhelming sense of loss for all the moments I've missed.

He's the perfect blend of us both - Alyssa's delicate features softened by Vakutan strength. His skin is a warm bronze, and even from here, I can see the slight points to his ears. It's like looking at a living mirror of my own childhood, yet with unmistakable traces of his mother. He tugs on Alyssa's hand, pointing at something, and she bends down to listen, her patience evident in every movement.

"Mama, can we get the spiky one?" his high-pitched voice carries to me, a sound that pierces straight through my chest and nestles in my heart. It's the first time I've heard my son speak, and the realization nearly brings me to my knees.

Alyssa chuckles, a sound I remember all too well from our time together. "That's a durian, sweetheart. Trust me, you don't want that one." Her tone is warm, filled with a mother's love and amusement. I find myself wondering how many other momentslike this I've missed, how many firsts have slipped by without my knowledge. The weight of my absence settles heavily on my shoulders, a burden I never knew I carried until now.

"But it looks cool!"

"Sometimes the coolest-looking things aren't always the best," Alyssa says, a hint of sadness in her voice that makes my chest ache.

I take a step forward, then hesitate. What right do I have to intrude on their lives? But as I watch them, I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. They're happy, safe. Everything I fought for.

Alyssa turns, her eyes sweeping the crowd, and for a moment, I think she's seen me. But her gaze passes over me without a flicker of recognition. I've changed too, I suppose. The years haven't been kind.

I watch, my heart clenching, as she pays for the fruit, then takes our son's hand. His small fingers curl trustingly around hers, and I'm struck by how much he's grown. "Come on, Laar," she says, her voice soft and warm. "Let's go home."

Laar. She named him after the man who died for us. It brings tears to my eyes, a lump forming in my throat. The weight of my deception presses down on me, even as I'm filled with an overwhelming love for this family I never expected to have. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my vision as they walk away, their figures blurring in the Terran sunlight.

As they walk away, I remain rooted to the spot, drinking in the sight of them. My family. My heart.

CHAPTER 35

MAAR

"I'm sad," I say to the bartender. "But so happy."

"Humans have a word for that," the bartender says. "Bittersweet."

I nurse my drink, the smooth Vakutan whiskey a poor substitute for the warmth I crave. The Mandarin Oriental's opulent bar feels hollow, a gilded cage mocking my self-imposed exile. My eyes keep drifting to the window, thinking of Alyssa and our son.

"Another?" The bartender's voice cuts through my reverie.

I shake my head. "Better keep a clear head."

The words barely leave my lips when the air shifts. Three IHC Marines stride in, their crisp uniforms a stark contrast to the plush surroundings. My muscles tense instinctively.

One of them, a lanky redhead, locks eyes with me. Recognition flashes across his face. "You there! Hold it!"

I feign confusion as they approach. "Is there a problem, gentlemen?"

The leader, a grizzled veteran with a scar across his chin, narrows his eyes. "Papers. Now."

I reach into my jacket, movements deliberately slow. "Of course, officer. Just a simple tourist here."

I hand over my forged travel permit, praying the craftsmanship holds up. The veteran scrutinizes it, his frown deepening.

"This doesn't look right," he growls. "You're coming with us for questioning."

My heart races, but I keep my voice steady. "Surely there's been some mistake. I assure you?—"

The redhead cuts me off, reaching for his stunner. "Hands where we can see them!"

Time slows. I could go quietly, but now that everyone is safe, I really don't give a fuck. In a fluid motion, I grab my glass and hurl the contents into the veteran's eyes.

He howls in pain as I duck under the redhead's wild swing. My elbow connects with his solar plexus, driving the air from his lungs. The third Marine, a stocky woman, lunges at me. I sidestep, using her momentum to send her crashing into a nearby table.

Chaos erupts in the bar. Patrons scream and scramble for cover. I vault over the bar, glass crunching under my boots. The bartender cowers in the corner.

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