She lifted a spoon full of bright yellow rice. Simple food. Cheap food. It didn’t belong on fine dishes in a rich house.
But the boys looked at it like treasure.
Maya served them carefully, making sure each child got the same amount.
“Eat slowly,” she whispered.
“There’s enough for everyone today.”
She was still wearing yellow cleaning gloves as she gently brushed one boy’s hair.
Victor should have shouted.
Thrown them out.
Demanded answers.
But he couldn’t move.
One boy laughed and turned his head. The light caught his face.
Victor felt dizzy.
That nose.
That smile.
The way the boy held his spoon.
It was him.
A younger version of himself.
His house was locked. No one came in without permission.
So why were four children sitting at his table, being cared for like princes?
Maya wiped their mouths with his old linen napkins.
“One day,” she said softly, “you won’t be hungry anymore. You’ll be strong. Just remember to share.”
Victor stepped forward.
His shoes made a sound.
Maya froze and slowly turned.
Their eyes met.
The boys turned too.
Now Victor saw it clearly.
They weren’t just similar.
They were his.
“Maya,” Victor said loudly, his voice shaking.
“What is going on?”