Richard James had left his new-born daughter and her mother when Moira was only four days old. Throughout the first years of her life, his absence hadn’t bothered her. But through kindergarten and pre-school, however, she noticed how all the other kids had a mommy and a daddy, while she only had a mommy. The five-year-old Moira feared it was her fault, that her not being a good girl was the reason behind her daddy’s departure. And she thought that maybe, he hadn’t loved her enough to stay.

Cooper had gone from her safe haven and best friend of three years, to her worst nightmare. By abandoning her, publicly humiliating her, belittling her, and becoming her bully, he had betrayed her in every possible way a friend could. And to this day, she hadn’t forgiven him for the damage he had done to her both mentally and physically.

Derek was supposed to be a fresh start, to help her regain her trust in men after avoiding them for the past years. She’d occasionally noticed the small flaws in his behaviour, but had naively ignored them and blamed herself for bringing out the bad in him. Until one day, he fully surfaced and the real Derek showed his ugly face. He objectified her like a husband did his wife back in the old days, treated her like a cheap fúck. The only thing he’d managed to do during their relationship was make her feel like every man in her life was eventually going to betray, and leave her.

Harraël had walked into her life uninvited. She’d tried pushing him away with all her might, even retorted to acting like a total tyrant in attempt his scare him off. To no avail. Whatever she threw his way, he received with open arms. He dealt with her bullshit like no other, and treated her like a princess. So, like the rest of the world, she could not resist his charms. Ignoring the warning bells at the back of her head, she’d taken the leap and given him the chance to win her heart or break it.

He had done both.

Moira could not believe the mess she’d found herself in.

The man wasn’t only her lover, but also her mysterious donor; her son’s father. If the situation had been any different, she’d be screaming it from the rooftops with happiness. But instead of telling her, he’d kept his fatherhood a secret. For how long, she did not know. A couple of weeks or months tops.

Deep inside, Moira knew she’d been jumping to conclusions like always. And that his intentions were genuine. Harry would never pretend to be someone he wasn’t. He wouldn’t pretend to love her, nor spend time with her just for the sake of Ollie. There had to be a reasonable explanation for why he did what he did.

Still, she had her doubts.

Her past made her a stronger woman, and now that she was a mother; Moira had no choice but to be strong. For her son. The voice at the back of her head urged for her to be on guard, to not let any man fool her ever again. Harraël included.

She had Ollie to think of now, her decisions influenced him directly, so she couldn’t make any more mistakes. Not like she had done in her past. The voice told her to run and never look back, now that she could. To take her son and go.

He lied to you.

He kept this away from you.

He’s only with you for Oliver.

He’s just like the rest of them.

Those words kept chanting in her head, echoing in her mind and making her feel queasy, like he had betrayed her like no other. And yet, despite what he’d done, she couldn’t help but harbour the exact same feelings. You couldn’t simply ‘unlove’ someone.

After finally noticing the striking resemblance between Ollie and Harry, she was tempted to hit herself for being so stupidly oblivious. How had she not noticed it before? Oliver’s eyes were literally the same color, and even the shiny, bouncy, brown curls on his head resembled his father’s. And the mischievous streak they were both born with, was the charming cherry on top.

She knew how it felt growing up without a father, like a part of you is constantly missing. If things had been different, she’d have no trouble raising Ollie on her own. But now that his dad was in the picture, there was no way she’d keep them seperated. Not even if it meant lowering the walls around her and letting Harry damage her pride. The evil sneer in her head urged her to say hell to it all and leave, but she simply couldn’t.

She was constantly caught between what was best for her and what was best for Ollie, but as time passed, she started edging more and more towards what was good for Ollie: his daddy.

It’d been five days after the meeting, five days of agony, emptiness and only leaving her apartment for work.

Every time she closed her eyes, Harry was there. The images flickering from the cheeky man she knew, to the one she left in Dr Patel’s office. In the silence, she heard his voice and in the dark, she saw his face. There was no escaping him. She felt incomplete without his presence. So numb that she could barely muster the strength to smile.

She hadn’t seen nor spoken to him in five days, either. He hadn’t come back for any of his stuff and Moira liked to think it was a sign.

Perhaps he was giving her time and space. But even as she tried to rationalise the situation, she felt her eyes welling up. The tears that rose fell from her lashes, blurring her vision of the sandwich she was attempting to make for dinner. She didn’t brush them away, feeling that in some way they were necessary; a purging of her own human weakness. The same weakness that had made her fully trust Harry.

Her mother babysitted Ollie while she worked at the office, in the morning and early afternoon. She’d arrive back home at about half past two PM and take over the care of her baby. These were both good distractions, and helped in setting a routine. But at night, she let the emotions take control.

Throwing the knife back onto the counter in frustration, she left the unfinished sandwich for what it was and ventured off into the living room. Her hands were trembling and she could feel her throat tightening with an upcoming, helpless sob. She was moments from having a mental breakdown; she could feel it building up inside of her like it had done for the past five nights. Letting herself sink into the couch’s cushions, she clutched herself and covered her mouth to stifle the cries escaping her.

A sudden, loud boom of thunder pulled her back to the present and made her jump a little. At that moment, the lights blinked one more time –almost mockingly– before completely shutting off and leaving her in a pitch black living room.

Moira held her breathe as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating everything for a brief second. Then everything was dark again as the sound of thunder came afterwards. She pressed more into the cushions behind her. Ever since she was a child, storms –thunder/lightning storms in particular– had shaken her to the bone, scared her so much she’d crawl into bed with her mom. And now that she had a home so high up in the sky and no one to crawl in bed with, the fear had only gotten worse.

Sniffling loudly, trying to get herself to stop crying, she wiped her cheeks and stood up. With purpose, she climbed the stairs, walked down the hall and entered Ollie’s nursery to check if the noise had awakened him or scared him as much as it scared his mother. With relief, she saw he was still in dreamland. She tucked the blanket tighter around her son, making sure he wouldn't get cold now that the heat was out.

The storm was attacking full force outside and she was surprised Ollie was able to sleep. Unlike his mommy, who seemed to be the lightest sleeper of all and could never sleep through a storm. Leaning down, she briefly kissed his forehead and went back downstairs.

Once in the kitchen, she began scavenging around, in search of candles. Since it wasn’t unusual for the power to fall out during storms, she was prepared and found plenty of 12-candle packs in the pantry. She tore into the packaging like a rabid animal and lit nearly 40 candles in attempt to keep herself busy.

By the time she was placing the last few candles around the living room, the thunder and lightning had stopped. Then, there was a knock on the door. She forced herself towards the source of the knock and looked through the peep hole. What she saw made her mouth fall open in pure shock.

Harry.

He raked a hand through his hair as he waited, and she cursed her lovesick self, because the mere sight of him was making the butterflies flutter in her belly. Him, knocking on her door, was totally unexpected to say the least, especially so late in the evening. Without further delay, she threw the door open and stared at him displaying as little emotion as possible.

“Uhh hi.” He greeted with a hesitant glint in his eyes, seeing her blank face. “I just wanted to check if you were alright, with the lights off and heat out and all.”

“We’re fine.” She said curly, before adding. “Ollie slept through the noise, thankfully.”

She didn’t know why she’d told him that, but was glad she did because the second she mentioned Ollie. His green orbs lit up. Either he was an extraordinarily good actor, or he truly did come to care deeply for them. Both of them.

“Okay, good.” He smiled, somewhat less hesitant now. Relieved that Moira was willing to exchange small talk and hadn’t instantly dismissed him like he thought she would. “Do you have enough candles and blankets? I can go get some if you’d like?”

“Like I said. We’re fine, Harraël. Thank you.”

Harraël. She’d called him Harraël. Never before had he felt so sick to the stomach at the sound of his name. She never called him Harraël. This most likely indicated she was still upset with him. Which was quite understandable. Hell, he could hardly forgive himself for keeping it all a secret for so long, nearly 7 weeks... He should never have come.

“Do you.. wanna come in?”

Multiple question marks appeared in her head. Why on earth had she asked that? She hadn’t even planned on saying it until it was too late and had already let the words tumble from her lips. She missed him, yes, but that didn’t mean she was ready to talk.

There was a momentary silence.

Harry, too, was taken completely by surprise, his mouth opened, closed, then opened again before he managed to stutter, “I-uhh yeah sure, thank you.”

She stepped aside to let him pass and closed the door behind him. He kept his eyes trained on her the entire time. Only letting them flicker off of her for an instance to glance around her apartment and admire the sea of small flames that were lighting the open space and making it appear more romantic than it was. He didn't say anything further.

“Would you like anything to drink?” she asked sheepishly, fiddling with her fingers as her gaze was set tightly on the floor.

Harry knew he should say something to the woman who now stood opposite him, answering her question would be the polite thing to do. But he was unnerved; something about her was off. She looked awfully ill at ease, standing there, pulling at the sleeves of her baggy sweater.

It dawned on him that the ever cool-minded Moira, felt uncomfortable in his presence.

“Let’s just sit and talk.”