“This helps when people feel nervous,” she said. “This one helps with stomach pain.”
“Who taught you?”
“My grandma. Before she died. Then I read books.”
Theo listened, something unfamiliar stirring in his chest.
“And why do you like this so much?” he asked.
Maya looked at him calmly.
“Because things get better when someone really takes care of them.”
The words stayed with him.
After a moment, he asked quietly, “Would you want to live with me?”
She didn’t react the way most children would.
Instead, she tilted her head.
“Do you want me because you feel sorry for me… or because you don’t want to be alone?”
Theo let out a slow breath.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Maybe both.”
She considered that.
“At least you’re honest.”
The process moved quickly—papers, interviews, evaluations. His influence helped, but Maya had one condition.
“I want to see your house first.”
The mansion stood in a quiet, wealthy neighborhood—sprawling, polished, perfect.
When Maya stepped out of the car, she didn’t look impressed.
She went straight to the garden.
“They’re pretty,” she said, touching the soil. “But they’re not alive.”
“They’re alive,” Theo replied, amused.
“They’re maintained,” she corrected. “Not cared for.”