To Love A Villain

Chapter 250: Side Story - Ordinary Days 2

>>Third Person POV

Amber laughed and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "You’re trending in this room already."

"I’m trending in my daughter’s heart," he murmured smugly, turning his attention back to Zola’s tiny legs. "That’s what matters."

Next came the float session. The spa assistant lowered Zola into a heated, shallow pool with a special setting to remain at the perfect temperature. A small float ring supported her neck and head, allowing her to float freely like a miniature queen surveying her water kingdom.

Hael watched her with awe. "She’s glowing."

Amber chuckled. "That’s the mist."

Zola let out a squeaky giggle and splashed a tiny hand against the water. She kicked and floated gently, completely at peace. The other babies squealed with her, creating a soft chorus of tiny water nymphs.

Amber and Hael sat on the edge of the pool, dipping their hands in the warm water, watching their daughter drift contentedly.

"You were right," Amber said. "This was a good idea."

Hael sat beside the pool, one hand in the water, just within reach if Zola decided to tip sideways—which, with her growing excitement, seemed entirely possible. Amber chuckled beside him, enjoying her tea, relaxed for the first time in days. The other parents had mostly learned to give them space after the initial recognition, and things had finally started to feel... normal.

Until another parent approached.

He was trying to be polite—middle-aged, friendly, even a little nervous—but Hael saw the flash of a camera charm peeking from the man’s wristband and the half-hidden magazine in his hand meant for an autograph.

Amber caught the tension shift in Hael’s posture immediately.

Without a word, Hael stood, nodded once at the man, and walked away from the pool area. He made his way to the front desk and sought out the spa instructor, who was mid-conversation with another staff member.

"I’d like to make a request," Hael said, his tone calm but unmistakably firm.

The instructor looked up, immediately attentive. "Of course, Mister Hael"

"I came here for my daughter," he said. "I understand some people might recognize me, but this is supposed to be her day. Could you kindly inform the guests not to approach me while we’re here?"

The instructor nodded, bowing slightly. "Understood. I’ll take care of it."

True to her word, a few moments later, a gentle but clear announcement was made over the speaker in the room.

"Dear guests, we kindly ask that you refrain from approaching Mister Hael and his family for autographs, conversation, or photos. He is here as a private guest with his family. Thank you for your understanding. Those who do not comply will be asked to leave and will be banned from all future activities."

There were quiet murmurs of disappointment and a few surprised glances, but no one objected. What could they do now, with a threat like that, anyone would sit their ass down.

When Hael returned to the pool, he found Amber with a knowing smile on her face and Zola blowing bubbles in her float ring.

"Peace?" she asked.

"For now," Hael replied, sinking down beside her again and reaching out to squeeze his daughter’s hand. Zola grabbed one of his fingers with fierce determination, and Hael smiled. "She’s holding onto me like she’s keeping me here."

Amber laughed softly. "Maybe she is."

A few minutes passed, and Hael began humming softly under his breath while Zola dozed in her warm water bubble. Amber, meanwhile, glanced to her right where another mother had set her baby girl down on the mat beside them. She was adorably round-cheeked with tiny fists that waved in the air as if conducting an invisible orchestra.

Amber couldn’t help but smile. "Your daughter is so cute," she said gently.

The other mother turned, grateful for the kindness. "Yours too! Those little soft curls—goddess, she looks like a painting."

Amber grinned. "They’re almost the same age, aren’t they?"

"Mine’s seven months." She said, "Her name is Elira"

"Zola just turned eight."

They exchanged warm glances. Motherhood had that strange magic of uniting strangers with only a few words.

After a moment, the other mother asked hesitantly, "Would you mind watching her for a second while I go to the bathroom? I’ll be quick."

Amber blinked but nodded. "Of course. Go ahead. We’re not going anywhere."

The mother mouthed a thank-you and stepped away while Amber settled beside the two babies. Zola was half-asleep in her pod now, Hael had taken her out of the pool, and the other baby—who she’d learned was named Elira—was lying on her back, staring at the soft-glowing ceiling stars above, babbling to herself in a sweet little voice.

Amber watched them both with a soft heart. There was something calming about seeing babies just exist, unharmed, innocent, and completely unaware of the troubles of the world.

Elira kicked her feet, cooing, her tiny fingers grasping at air. But slowly, her head turned. Her little eyes flicked side to side, seeking something—someone.

She looked at Amber. At Hael. At Zola.

Then confusion set in.

Amber saw it the moment it happened. The slight frown, the twitch of her lip, the uncertainty in her eyes. She didn’t see her mother—only strangers.

Elira’s face crumpled. And then came the cry.

It wasn’t loud at first—just a little hiccup of distress, like a bird caught in the wrong wind. But soon it swelled into the unmistakable sound of panic.

"Ah," Amber murmured, already leaning over. "It’s okay, baby girl. Mama will be back any second."

But Elira wasn’t hearing it. Her arms flailed now, her cheeks flushed red with effort, her legs kicking in helpless confusion.

Hael looked over, eyebrows lifted in concern. "Everything alright?"

"She just realized her mom’s not here," Amber said gently, her voice soft as she lifted Elira into her arms. "Poor thing."

Amber gently cradled Elira, bouncing her in slow, rhythmic motions while softly cooing sweet sounds into her ear. The little girl had finally calmed down, her wails having dwindled to small whimpers. Amber gave her a soft kiss on the forehead and tickled her round cheeks, making her let out a tiny giggle.

"See?" Amber smiled softly. "Mama’s coming back. You were just scared, hmm?"

Zola had been asleep moments ago, but Elira’s crying had pulled her from slumber. Her big eyes fluttered open and immediately searched the room. Her sight landed on her mother—but something felt wrong.

Very wrong.

Amber was smiling at another baby.

Zola blinked. She looked to her right—her father was sitting there, but he wasn’t holding her. She looked back at Amber again, who was now gently playing with Elira’s little feet and blowing soft raspberries against her belly, making the other baby laugh.

A small pang sparked in Zola’s tiny chest.

She furrowed her brow.

"Ah..." she softly called out, a thin wisp of sound, reaching for her mother.

Amber didn’t hear.

She was too focused on soothing Elira, still trying to keep the poor girl distracted until her mother returned.

Zola stared for another long moment, confused... and then her lips turned downward. Her hands clenched into small fists on the edge of her float ring. The warmth she always saw on her mother’s face—Amber’s light, her touch—was being shared.

And not with her.

For the first time in her small life, Zola felt something she didn’t understand. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t hunger. It wasn’t fear.

It was something else entirely.

Her face crumpled. But not to cry—no, not yet. Not like Elira. Zola slipped into a quiet storm, lips pursed, cheeks flushed, eyes wide and serious.

Hael noticed her stirring and leaned in. "Zola?" he whispered, reaching a hand to the float. "You okay?"

Zola turned toward him, her bottom lip trembling just slightly. Then, without warning, she began to fuss—small kicks, arms waving, a grunt in her throat. She pushed against the podwith frustration, and when Hael reached to lift her out, she didn’t calm.

In fact, she only got more animated.

"Alright, alright—okay, okay," Hael murmured, standing and pulling her gently to his chest.

But Zola didn’t settle in his arms. She wriggled with purpose, arms reaching downward, twisting in a determined little protest. It wasn’t a random squirm—she had a destination in mind.

She wanted down.

"Wait—do you want... the floor?" Hael asked, startled.

Zola grunted again.

Hael sighed and gently lowered her onto the soft matting, keeping close just in case. But as soon as her hands and knees touched the ground, she was off—crawling with surprising speed for someone her size, wobbling but intent.

Amber was laughing softly now, Elira happily wriggling in her arms.

Then Amber felt a tug.

She looked down.

Zola had reached her. She was holding tightly onto her pant leg, her tiny fingers curled into the fabric like they were clutching something that was almost taken from her.

Amber blinked. "Zola?"

Zola looked up at her mother with a puffed lip and watery eyes. There wasn’t a single tear yet—but the betrayal was real. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream.

She simply held on.

Amber was frozen, unsure of what to do. She had one baby snuggled in her lap, another clinging to her with the fierce grip of tiny but determined fingers. Elira was still babbling softly, unaware of the quiet storm she had stirred beside her.

But Zola... Zola turned her little head, peering around her mother’s arm, and glared at Elira.

A real, scrunched-up glare.

It wasn’t just confusion or discomfort—it was the look of a betrayed empress discovering a usurper on her throne.

Amber’s eyes widened slightly. "Did she just..."

Hael, kneeling beside them, blinked in disbelief. "Did she just glare at a seven-month-old?"

Amber looked between her daughter and the cooing baby. "I think she did."

They exchanged a glance—part stunned, part amused.

Hael exhaled and rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright," he said, leaning forward. "I’ll take Elira for a second."

Amber blinked, surprised. "You? You never hold babies that aren’t Zola."

He gave her a dry look. "I’m only doing this for Zola."

Amber raised her eyebrows, a quiet chuckle in her throat. "Really? I thought you hated holding unfamiliar kids."

"I do," Hael replied flatly. "But my daughter looks like she’s about to duel this one."

Amber snorted and carefully shifted Elira into her hands, preparing to hand her over to Hael. "Alright then, good luck. She’s heavier than she looks."

But just as Amber was about to pass Elira over, Zola saw.

And she knew.

Her little hands shot out and grabbed the front of her father’s coat, clinging hard, her face twisting into distressed alarm. A desperate, panicked sound escaped her lips as she pulled at him, as if to say: "Don’t take her! Don’t even touch her!"