Chapter 2: Controversial Visitor
The blaring sound of an alarm pierced through the room, jolting Zackary awake with a groan. He reached out and fumbled for the alarm clock, meeting success and finally managing to switch it off.
Lying in bed, Zackary found himself momentarily disoriented as he tried to piece together the events of the previous night. It felt as if he had woken up after a night of heavy drinking, struggling to recall the details.
Right after being given that ridiculous, near-suicidal assignment, Zackary had been in a daze for the rest of the night. He had returned to his run-down apartment with Benly and promptly fell asleep, not even bothering to change his clothes.
Until his alarm woke him up that is,
As his mind began to clear and after collecting himself, Zackary rose out of bed, looked around the room and checked the time on the alarm clock
Zackary's one-room apartment was a rundown, cluttered space with peeling wallpaper and cracked windows. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a worn-out bed, a small table cluttered with empty food containers, a dresser and a few personal belongings scattered about. The dim light barely penetrated the dusty air, giving the room a gloomy, neglected appearance. The overall condition of the room reflected his impoverished lifestyle
'Lest the rents cheap' He said to console himself
'8:35 am, not a lot of time.' He noticed after checking the time
He couldn't afford to be late; he had a rather birthday to attend to after all.
Zackary wasted no time and moved purposefully towards the cupboard. He instinctively reached for his body armour, but hesitated, realizing it might not be appropriate for the occasion.
Instead, his eyes darted to the other side of the cupboard, where he found a plain black shirt and dark trousers - some of the few casual items of clothing he owned. Being poor meant he had to make do with limited options.
Quickly dressing himself, he made his way to the door, only to stop short and glance at the small, neatly organized dresser in the corner. On top of it lay his combat knife, M6C Magnum, and their respective holsters.
'I better not, my presence already won't be very welcomed. Coming into the place armed will probably only make things worse, although I'll feel safer if I had it… he thought disappointedly
With a small sigh, Zackary glanced at the digital clock on the wall, its glowing numbers indicating that he was already running behind schedule. The adrenaline rush fuelled his movements as he swiftly gathered the remaining items: a portable data pad, a compact communicator, his trusty wallet and finally a small blue box.
With his items collected Zackary exited the room and left the building.
As Zackary speed-walked down the street, he couldn't help but curse inwardly, 'It's times like this I wish I had my own car. If only my motorcycle wasn't blown up a few months ago. Well, at least the hidden explosive went off when I wasn't riding the thing.'
Without his own vehicle, Zackary had no choice but to navigate the streets until he reached the station and finally boarded a Maglev train.
With a hint of sadness in his expression as he saw his hard-earned money dwindle, Zackary paid for his ticket and took a seat on the short-nosed train
Finally getting a moment to relax, Zackary's mind became a whirlwind of thoughts, all centred on the same topic. He furrowed his brows, unconsciously biting his lower lip as he pondered the mission assignment.
"That damn mission assignment," he muttered under his breath
Truthfully, he had time to mull over the assignment properly last night, but his emotions and overwhelming desire for sleep had temporarily overridden his objective thinking. Now, with a clear mind, he could properly consider the mission from a neutral standpoint. He absentmindedly tapped his fingers on the edge of the seat, a nervous habit that surfaced when deep in thought.
Letting out yet another sigh, Zackary thought, 'Even I have to admit, on the surface, it's not a terribly thought-out mission." He switched his gaze outside the window, contemplation evident in his gaze. "In fact, one could even call it rather generous. Retrieving and smuggling some items, even if they were Forerunner artifacts for 250 million credits is unbelievably good pay considering the mentioned risks."
As he contemplated the situation, he absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, 'Assuming the intelligence is correct, there shouldn't be anything preventing us from completing the mission,'
He glanced around the train, avoiding eye contact with others as his thoughts intensified. 'Except for the off chance it was leaked to other parties resulting in a small skirmish. But that's within acceptable danger levels for a mission like this,' he continued, tapping his fingers.
'Of course, with a price tag of 250 million credits, I can't eliminate the possibility that they intend to dispose of me afterwards, or there's something in the assignment Mr. Spectre refrained from mentioning, hence the high payment.'
Upon immediately thinking of this, Zackary instinctively nodded his head, disagreeing with his own thoughts. 'Then again, I have no reference on how much Forerunner artifacts would sell for in the black market or to Mr. Spectre's own private buyers,' he muttered, rubbing his temples.
'But given its rarity and potential effects, a singular one would be valued well and truly above 250 million credits. Making it a profitable transaction.' He leaned back in his seat, his eyes staring off into the distance.
One had to understand that 250 million credits, even for a business tycoon like Mr. Spectre, wasn't easy to give out immediately. Rationalizing this, Zackary concluded it was most likely a combined payout from the other parties he mentioned, but this still didn't answer his most burning questions.
'I allowed my emotions to get the better of me again,' he said, shaking his head slightly. 'Some mercenary I am.' He ran a hand through his hair again, pulling at it slightly in frustration.
"Had I not been overwhelmed with panic, I could've asked some important questions, such as the location, how I'm getting there, who I'd be travelling with, and how long the cryosleep would be." He sighed, a mix of regret and determination crossing his face.
"And most importantly..." He paused, his gaze focusing intently on some distant point.
"Why me?"
All things considered, Zackary was the classic run-of-the-mill mercenary that you could find in any bar. Sure, he boasted a rather high success rate of his entrusted missions, but even that shouldn't warrant a 250 million credit price tag just to guarantee his involvement.
"Maybe I wasn't the first choice, and as Mr. Spectre became desperate, he raised the payout?" he pondered, furrowing his brow. But that didn't seem likely, as the bartender he spoke with didn't indicate there were others before him.
As he dwelled on the potential reasons, a more probable cause suddenly came to him.
'He must've dug up my military background' he thought, clenching his fist. Since he was so insistent on getting him onboard, perhaps Mr. Spectre saw something on his military record relevant to the assignment.
Regardless of his economic situation, Zackary wasn't overly lured by the credits, at least not to the point where he would blindly ignore the risks like some others might. True, he was poor and barely surviving as it is, but he wasn't overly bothered by his financial situation. If he really needed money, he could take on relatively safer missions.
Understanding that he couldn't keep Mr. Spectre waiting, he decided to make his decision here and now. A few minutes of silence passed as Zackary stared absentmindedly out of the window, contemplating his next move.
"I can't take this assignment" he spoke softly, letting out a small sigh.
Yes, the 250 million credits were unbelievably tempting, and yes, the mission was well-planned with an acceptable risk of danger. Additionally, Mr. Spectre was a reputable source of missions, and his intelligence could generally be trusted.
However, none of this swayed Zackary's decision to decline the assignment. There were two primary reasons behind his choice. Firstly, Zackary had no interest in getting involved with Forerunner artifacts. Before, during, and after the mission were all equally likely to cause more trouble than he could handle. Secondly, Zackary held a belief that Mr. Spectre had been withholding important information from him While it was common practice to withhold certain details in mission assignments in this business to an extent, his gut feeling told him that this mission was more dangerous than he had been informed and wasn't worth it.
Offering 250 million credits for what essentially amounted to a glorified security guard role was suspicious, no matter the circumstances. Perhaps he could handle the assignment, but he wasn't willing to take the chances for something he didn't absolutely need. He wasn't in urgent need of money, and he certainly didn't have a death wish, whether from the UNSC or the artifact itself.
"If they continue to harass me…" Zackary paused and contemplated "Well, worst-case scenario, I'll have to change identities and move to a new place again," Zackary thought, absentmindedly
Zackary had experienced bad run-ins with powerful individuals in the past, and he had learned the hard way that sometimes the best course of action was to tuck tail and run to live another day. It was a lesson that had led him to avoid getting too comfortable in any residence, always prepared to pack up and leave if needed.
This cautious approach extended to his personal life as well. Only Benly knew his address and family details, ensuring that even if he had to leave suddenly, there would be no risk to his loved ones or himself.
"Still a pain in the ass though..." Zackary muttered
With his choice made, Zackary let his thoughts drift away as he gazed out of the bus window, half-hazardly listening to the news playing in the background
"In recent news, the UNSC and UEG express unwavering optimism regarding their alliance with the Sword of Sanghelios, led by the esteemed Arbiter. They assert that their partnership remains 'as strong as it has ever been.' However, dissenting voices emerge as certain colonies question the continued conflict. In an unusual display of cooperation, the Jiralhanae and a religious sect known as the Servants of the Abiding Truth ambush UNSC forces in the outer rim, adding to the growing tensions."
"Commander-in-Chief Musa Ghanem of 'Spartan Operations,' an independent branch of the United Nations Space Command's armed forces, addresses the shortfall of Spartan super soldiers. Initial projections indicated the development of over 100,000 new Spartan-IVs by 2563, but the reality has fallen short, with less than 80% of this estimate realized."
"Meanwhile, the corporate council announces new peacekeeping operations aimed at managing the rise of insurrectionist groups. The president emphasizes their dedication to ensuring that these terrorists are brought to justice and removed from our streets. However, scepticism arises among citizens, given the unresolved kidnapping of diplomats four years ago. Doubt is cast upon the council's ability to protect its citizens effectively."
After a while, the bus finally came to a stop, and a voice announced, "Now stopping, Salvation Street, sector 7." Zackary stood up, and as the bus doors opened, he stepped outside, scanning his surroundings.
"It shouldn't be far from the bus stop," he confirmed to himself.
As he walked towards the house of someone he truly didn't want to meet, nerves started to creep in. Instinctively, he reached to touch his M7C Magnum, only to remember that he had left it behind.
"No matter how many times I find myself meeting her, it's always more nerve-wracking than being shot at," he thought with a hint of disappointment.
Despite his unease, Zackary continued his stroll until he reached his destination—a quaint, old home situated on the corner of Salvation Street. While the house looked nice, its faded reddish colour and the dead flowers around the front gave it a somewhat depressive vibe.
From deep inside the home, he could hear voices—a mix of laughter and distant conversations.
Taking a few breaths and steeling his resolve Zackary walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell
"Zzzzzzzz"
The sound of the doorbell echoed through the house, interrupting the flow of conversations, and for a moment, everything went silent. Zackary held his breath, unsure of what to expect. He knew this meeting would be anything but easy. Eventually, the door swung open, revealing a woman in her 20s, her features strikingly opposite to his own
She had long, flowing auburn hair that cascaded down her shoulders, vibrant green eyes that held a gaze of scrutiny, and a slender figure that exuded confidence. She held an expression of disgust as she took in the sight of Zackary standing before her.
"Zackary," she said, her voice tinged with a mix of surprise and disapproval. "You actually had the audacity to show up."
As the smell of alcohol entered his nostrils, a frown quickly formed on Zackary's face.
"Emily," he replied, his voice steady despite the nervousness and annoyance he felt inside. "I'm here to see our daughter."
The lovely, spirited woman standing in front of him was his ex-wife, Emily. The only person he truly despised.
Emily scoffed, crossing her arms defensively. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly thrilled to see you. she retorted. "Anyway you come around once in a blue moon and yet Sarah is still all smiles and hugs when she sees you, it's disgusting."
"I know I haven't been around as much as I should," Zackary admitted, his voice softening. "But I'm trying to change that. I'm trying to be a part of her life, even if you don't like it."
Emily rolled her eyes, her anger still evident. "You think showing up for her birthday makes up for all the other times you've been absent? You think you can just waltz in here and play the doting father?"
"It's not like that," Zackary replied, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've had my reasons for being away, and you know exactly why. But I want to be here now, and I want to be there for her moving forward."
"Boohoo," Emily mocked, her eyes glinting with a mix of malice and indifference. "You think I care about your excuses?" She paused, then revealed a smirk. "Mhm, sorry, I don't know what you're talking about. Don't blame me for you being a piece of shit Father." Her tone was innocent, but the underlying sarcasm was evident.
Anger surged into Zackary as he clenched his fists and held his tongue, the reason he rarely saw his daughter was because of the bitch in front of him.
During the divorce settlement, she had bribed the judge, ensuring custody of their daughter was awarded to her with unfair terms for visitations added on top. Despite his attempts to present evidence of her alcoholic and persistent drug use during the trial, the odds were stacked against him, and his efforts proved fruitless.
On top of that, he was burdened with an astronomical monthly child support payment to Emily, draining him of his finances and essentially plunging him into constant poverty. Struggling to make ends meet, he had no choice but to take on more assignments, leading to a vicious cycle of financial hardship and taking up what little time he had, thus preventing him from meeting his daughter.
What made it even more frustrating was the knowledge that a significant portion of the money he paid for child support likely didn't go towards supporting their daughter at all. Instead, it fuelled Emily's alcohol and drug addiction.
Taking a deep breath, Zackary made a conscious effort to regain his composure. He knew that losing his temper in front of Emily would only play into her hands. She was a master at manipulating him and pushing his buttons, and he couldn't afford to give her any more ammunition to use against him. He had to stay focused, even in the face of her provocations, if he wanted to maintain whatever privileges he had left lest it be stripped for "harassment".
"Let's not do this right now," he said, his voice strained. "I came here for our daughter's birthday, and I want to focus on that."
"Oh, now you want to play the devoted father?" Emily retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all these years of neglecting her, you think you can just swoop in and pretend to care?"
Zackary gritted his teeth, trying to keep his emotions in check. He knew that arguing with her would get him nowhere.
"Can I see her or not?" he spoke, cutting his tone firmly as he shot a piercing gaze at her.
Perhaps afraid of his build, or being met with the cold shoulder, Emily clicked her tongue dismissively, her eyes narrowing in annoyance. "What the hell happened to you? Decorated war soldier, ex-prisoner of war, you had everything, yet you left the UNSC and all the fame behind."
Zackary's jaw tensed, his hands balling into fists as he fought to keep his composure. "You don't understand," he said through gritted teeth, his frustration evident.
"Yeah, because your coward-ass wouldn't ever tell me," Emily retorted, a smug smirk playing on her lips seeing the effectiveness of her words.
His frustration boiled over, and he couldn't help but snap back, "What difference would it have made if I did?"
"You're right, nothing," Emily sneered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Can't believe I married a man like you in the first place."
Looking behind Emily to the distant kitchen table surrounded by people and dozens of bottles of alcohol, Zackary narrowed his eyes, and a clear gaze of disappointment crossed his face. "I see you're still partying hard," he couldn't help but remark, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice.
Emily shot him a sharp look, her false smile faltering for a moment before she quickly regained her composure. "Don't start, Zackary," she retorted, her words slightly slurred. "After all, it's her birthday. What's wrong with a little fun?"
One thing to do when interacting with this ex-wife of his is never to mention her alcohol or drug usage. Having been reminded of this fact Zackary promptly closed his mouth.
They stood in tense silence for a moment before Emily finally stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in. "Fine, come in," she said grudgingly. "But you go straight to her bedroom, I don't want you anywhere else in my house."
"She's in her room?" Zackary asked, a hint of surprise in his voice as he walked past her.
"Her friends didn't show up to her invitations, and what else am I supposed to do?" Emily's voice held a trace of frustration. "I don't have the strength to carry her equipment around."
Zackary suppressed his anger, knowing that arguing with Emily would only make things worse. Instead, he merely mused, 'As if you couldn't have asked someone to help.'
Zackary held his tongue, knowing that arguing with Emily would only make things worse. Besides, being around alcohol would've been a bad influence. Instead, he simply nodded and walked past her, making his way through the house to find his daughter's bedroom.
As he approached the closed door, he took a moment to compose himself. He didn't want to bring any of his frustrations or anger into his daughter's special day. Taking a deep breath, he knocked gently on the door.
"Hey, kiddo, it's me," he called softly. "Can I come in?"
After a few moments of silence, The door cracked open slightly, and a pair of bright blue eyes peeked out from behind it. It was his daughter, Sarah. She looked wary but curious about her visitor.
"Hi, Daddy," she said softly, a small smile forming on her face from behind the door.
Zackary's heart warmed at the sight of his daughter but after his previous conversation, he couldn't help but feel some sadness for her. Her room wasn't far from the door, and she must've overheard the two talking, but despite everything, she was still happy to see him.
Zackary crouched down to meet Sarah at her height. "May I come in?" he asked with a gentle smile.
A mischievous smirk erupted on the girl's cherubic face with expressive blue eyes that sparkled with her curiosity and joy. Her golden curls cascade down her shoulders, framing her face in a soft and angelic manner as she hissed, "What's the password!"
"…Uh… password?" he answered with uncertainty.
"Right! I think… I didn't actually have a password," she spoke, trailing off before she retreated further into her room.
Taking the invitation, he pushed the door open a little further and stepped into her room.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," he scolded gently as he stepped into the room, noticing a stack of envelopes near the door.
Sarah's smile wavered for a moment, and she glanced guiltily at her bed. Zackary met her gaze, understanding her unspoken thoughts.
'Of course, it's not the bed you shouldn't be out of, but…'
Meeting the two's gazes was a tangle of tubes and wires situated at her bed, the machines were supposed to monitor her, making sure she remained stable, while also providing her medications, fluids and similar things. Zackary's heart sank at the sight.
Sarah had a rare neurological disease known as Guillain-Barré Syndrome. It's a well-documented but nasty disease in which the host's own immune system attacked its own peripheral nervous system, the consequence of which was rapid-onset muscle weakness.
Sarah suffered from a rare neurological disease known as Guillain-Barré Syndrome. It was a well-documented but nasty disease in which the host's own immune system attacked its own peripheral nervous system, leading to rapid-onset muscle weakness.
He had known about her condition, of course. It was one of the only things Emily had kept him updated about (although he suspected it was to guilt him into sending more money). But seeing Sarah hooked up to those machines was a painful reminder of just how fragile she was. Thankfully, her condition hadn't worsened in the past few years, but it still weighed heavily on Zackary's heart.
"I know," Sarah said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "But I heard you and wanted to see you."
He took her small hand in his and lifted her up, slowly walking over to her bedside, careful not to disturb any of the equipment.
Even now seeing her again he acutely noticed the fragility of her appearance and her delicate frame which pointed at her physical weakness due to her condition.
"I'm glad you wanted to see me," he said, his voice filled with warmth. "Happy 9th birthday I missed you, kiddo."
Sarah's sadness seemingly vanished as she hugged Zackary with a wide smile "I've missed you too Daddy!"
"Let's get you settled down, and after that, I have something special for you," Zackary informed.
"Oh! Oh! Did you bring me a present?" She asked, her tone unable to hide her excitement.
Zackary grinned extravagantly. "Present? For whom?" he joked, playfully placing Sarah on his shoulders and hanging her facing downwards. "Why, I can't see anyone at all!" he teased as he bounced around the room towards her bed.
Sarah giggled with delight as Zackary pretended not to see her, holding onto his shoulders tightly and enjoying the upside-down view. Zackary couldn't help but feel a sense of joy at her infectious laughter.
"Oh, I must be mistaken then," he replied playfully, pretending to search the room. "I could have sworn there was someone here who deserved a special birthday present."
"Daddy, ahahah I'm right here!" Sarah said, her voice filled with delight. "Of course, I deserve a special present. I'm the birthday girl!"
"Well, in that case, birthday girl, I have something for you," he said, "But first, let's sit you back in bed so you can open it properly."
Spinning Sarah around gently before placing her back onto her bed. He carefully reconnected the fluids and wires back to his daughter, ensuring she was comfortable and secure. Sarah voiced no complaint, but it was obvious from the small frown she was in discomfort.
Once settled down, under the curious gaze of his overly excited daughter, Zackary reached into his pocket, pulling out another small gift, carefully wrapped in colourful paper.
"Okay, here you go," he said, placing the gift in her hands. "Once again happy 9th birthday, kiddo."
With excitement bubbling inside her, Sarah tore open the wrapping paper, revealing a mysterious and beautiful bell. "Wow, Daddy, look!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with glee.
The soft metal ore felt cool against her fingers as she held the bell, and when she gave it a little shake, it made the most delightful hum. "Listen, Daddy, it's singing!" she giggled, her eyes wide with wonder.
Zackary smiled warmly, enjoying her excitement. "Yes, it's a special bell with a magical song, just for you," playing along with her excitement.
Holding the bell tightly in her little hands, Sarah noticed that whenever she rang it. The bell started to emit a soft, gentle glow as if it was responding to her touch. "Daddy, look! It's glowing!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with awe.
As she continued to play with the bell, Zackary watched her with unwavering affection, soaking in her delight.
Examining the old inscription "Nishum" and the newer carved image of a child and a tall man above it, Sarah's eyes sparkled with imagination. "That's me with you!" she proclaimed, her little mind creating a beautiful story.
Zackary nodded, playing along with her wonderful imagination. "That's right"
'I had to spend a surprising amount of money to get that image inscribed, the material was really difficult to be engraved with' he silently added.
Holding the bell tightly in her little hands, Sarah beamed at her father. "Thank you, Daddy! It's amazing!" she said, her gratitude overflowing, but suddenly she paused.
As Sarah held the bell, her eyes shifted to the inscription. "Oh, what do these words mean?" she asked, pointing to the word "Nishum."
Caught off guard, Zackary hesitated for a moment. "It… um… means…" he struggled to find an answer, scratching his head in confusion.
Truthfully, Zackary didn't actually know what it meant, and despite his efforts to find the translation, all he got were blank stares from the translators.
"Daddy doesn't know what it means," she said, in a somewhat judgmental tone, crossing her arms and pouting in his direction, her disappointment clear.
"No! no! It means A daughter-Father bond is inseparable," Zackary quickly interjected, desperate to maintain some dignity in front of his somewhat-smart 9-year-old daughter. He straightened up and put on a proud smile.
"…Really?" she asked, still not fully convinced, doubt evident on her face as she tilted her head to the side, questioning his explanation.
"Definitely! But I only know this because of the special power this bell has…"
"Special power?" Upon hearing these words, Sarah's eyes sparkled with interest.
"Yep, they say that no matter how far away the gifter is, whether it's worlds or even galaxies apart, they will always hear this bell when it's rung by the receiver."
"I understand... I may not always be around, and I can't promise I'll change that anytime soon... but I genuinely care about you, and I want you to know that I love you. This bell was made using the rarest metals, and it's even imbued with magical properties. When you ring it, it creates a special connection between us. So, whenever you want to talk to Daddy or tell me something, just give it a ring, and I'll hear you even if I can't respond."
Sarah became silent as she grazed her thumb across the bell, her face filled with thoughtfulness, and suddenly she wore a displeased expression.
"…do you not like it?" Zackary asked hesitantly.
Suddenly, her frown disappeared as she beamed a mischievous smile at Zackary and stuck out her tongue. "Gotcha! Don't worry, I love it… I always miss you when you're gone, especially when I'm just with the doctors, and maybe… ringing this knowing you'll hear it, well... be prepared to hear it a lot, okay? Because I'm gonna ring it all the time! Even when I'm in the toilet!"
"Maybe not there, okay," Zackary joked with a smile, but suddenly something caught his attention.
"Alone with the doctors? What about your Mother?" he asked, afraid of knowing the answer.
Sarah merely fiddled with the bell as she spoke nonchalantly, "Mummy isn't there, she's always busy with work."
This set off some alarm bells in Zackary's mind. Last time he checked, Emily didn't have a job and instead relied on her boyfriend (and himself, of course) for income. Maybe she got one, but Zackary doubted this.
He forcefully eased his surging anger, looking at his daughter and playing with her gift.
"Where did you get this?" she asked curiously.
Thrown back into reality with the unexpected question, Zackary didn't answer immediately and kept silent, causing Sarah to look up at him, confused.
"From a mushroom residing deep in the clouds and skies made of purple and blue," Zackary spoke eventually, trying to add a touch of whimsy to his response.
"I'm not a child anymore, I'm 6! I don't believe in fairy tales anymore," she spoke, pouting away in response.
"Yes, yes, sorry, I won't do it again," Zackary replied, trying to hide his amusement at her sassiness.
A few hours went by, and Zackary spent some more time with Sarah, sharing stories, laughing together and even sharing a small cake that Zackary had stolen from Emily's kitchen. Eventually, he mustered the courage to broach a sensitive topic.
"Where are your friends?" Zackary asked in a low tone, his concern evident in his expression. He knew that this topic was dangerous, but he wanted to make sure she wasn't upset.
Sarah merely nodded her head, avoiding eye contact as she fidgeted with her bedcovers. "I made invitations, and Mummy sent them, but no one responded."
"Maybe something went wrong with the invitations, and they didn't receive them," Zackary fibbed, trying to offer a comforting explanation.
In reality, he believed he knew the reason behind the lack of responses, but he didn't have the heart to share the real reason with her.
"Do you… like living with Mommy?" he asked gently.
Sarah looked up, her eyes filled with sadness and a hint of frustration. "No," she said resolutely. "My friends are rarely allowed to visit, I'm always alone, and Mummy doesn't like to read bedtime stories…"
"…and I don't like her friends," she continued, expressing her disapproval with a childish scowl.
As Zackary listened to his daughter's words, a mixture of sadness and anger washed over him. He hated to see her feeling so alone and neglected, especially on her birthday. He knew about Emily's lifestyle and questionable choices but there was little he could do about it, given the custody arrangements and Emily's attitude towards him.
"Sarah, you know, sometimes grown-ups make mistakes or have different ways of doing things."
He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing, "Your mother loves you too, in her own way. But sometimes people get caught up in their own problems and forget to be there for others."
Sarah looked at her father, her eyes searching his face for answers. "Does that mean she doesn't care about me?"
Zackary sighed, realizing that this was a delicate subject to address. "No, it doesn't mean that she doesn't care about you. It's just that she has her own struggles and sometimes doesn't know how to show it. But I promise you, Sarah, no matter what, I will always be here for you. You can count on me, okay?"
"Can I live with you?" Sarah's hopeful voice trembled, but she quickly averted her gaze and added, "Never mind."
Zackary merely sighed, He wished he could say yes, but he knew it wasn't that simple. The custody arrangements and Emily's resistance made it difficult for him to have more time with his daughter and with his current situation, he wasn't in the right space to look after her properly.
His daughter despite rarely going to school was surprisingly intelligent, he didn't know how much she had gathered about the situation between himself and Emily, but she knew enough, and whatever she didn't, Zackary was confident she'll put it together eventually.
As Zackary's eyes glanced anxiously around the room, the distant conversations outside seemed to fade into silence. Suddenly, he noticed the plate in Sarah's hand had fallen, and his attention immediately turned to her.
"Sarah! Are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with concern.
Sarah tried to respond, but her breathing was rapid and shallow, making it difficult for her to speak. Her face contorted with pain, and she clutched her chest as if trying to ease the discomfort. Zackary's heart raced in panic as he rushed to her side, holding her hand tightly.
"Easy, sweetheart, just breathe," he urged, his voice trembling with worry.
Terrified, Zackary glanced at the medical machines and gazed upon the side table looking for medication, numbers or an emergency help button.
As the moments dragged on, Sarah's breathing began to stabilize, and her body slowly stopped its involuntary spasms. The attack seemed to pass, leaving her weak and exhausted.
Noticing her calming state, Zackary's grasped the glass of water on the bedside table and gently helped her sip it. "You're going to be alright," he assured her, trying to hide his own fear.
Despite her weakness, Sarah managed a weak smile. "I... I'll be okay, Daddy," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Just rest for now," Zackary politely asked
Surprisingly, Sarah didn't resist. She settled back into her bed, her eyes fluttering closed as she succumbed to the fatigue that had been building within her. As Zackary continued to sit by her side, he watched as her breathing gradually became more rhythmic, and her body relaxed into a peaceful slumber.
The room was hushed, save for the soft hum of the medical machines that still diligently monitored Sarah's condition. Zackary's eyes remained fixed on his daughter; his heart heavy with worry for her well-being.
He knew that he couldn't stay by her side forever, but he desperately wanted to. No, something was more important.
He needed answers.
Last time he had heard, her periodic attacks had calmed down to the extent she appeared to be recovering from her affliction and no longer suffered from extreme symptoms or attacks. However, her reaction made it appear as if said attacks were commonplace and this conflicting piece of news worried him.
Leaving his daughter's side, Zackary stood up and walked by the door to the stack of unopened envelopes.