Fated to a human

Haylie POV  

I stood in the hospital hallway, just a few steps away, my eyes fixed on Mathew. He sat slumped in a chair, his head in his hands, looking utterly lost, as though clinging to the last threads of hope. 

 The corridor buzzed with activity—nurses rushing past, patients being wheeled by—but no one seemed to notice me. A cold, sterile chill filled the air, seeping into my skin. 

I couldn't say how long I had been standing there, but eventually, a nurse approached Mathew. She held a piece of paper in her hands, her face clouded with worry and genuine concern etched into her furrowed brow. 

Mathew rose slowly from his seat, his movements hesitant, as though bracing for impact. 

"Sir Berkley," the nurse began, her voice soft but steady, "we've received the results from the paternity test." 

I moved closer, standing just beside Mathew, my own heart pounding with anxiety. The nurse glanced at the paper before meeting his gaze. 

"I'm sorry, sir. We ran the test twice to be certain, but both came back negative." 

My lips parted in shock. I watched as the nurse handed the paper to Mathew's trembling hands. His face crumpled with disbelief. 

"You mean… she isn't mine?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. 

The nurse shook her head. "I'm afraid the test confirms there's no DNA match." 

The pain in Mathew's eyes was devastating, a raw, unguarded expression that made tears spill from my own eyes. 

 For the first time, I truly saw how much he cared—how much he had wanted me to be his daughter. 

"Thank you," I heard him mutter, his voice barely above a whisper. The nurse gave a sympathetic nod before walking away, leaving him alone with the weight of the truth. 

Mathew stood there for a long time, staring down at the paper in his hand as silent tears streaked his cheeks. My heart ached, breaking under the heaviness of his sorrow. After what felt like an eternity, he took a deep, shaky breath, folded the paper with trembling hands, and tucked it into his jeans pocket. Without another word, he turned and walked away. 

All this time, I thought of Mathew as the man who had killed my father, but I never saw this side of him—the regret and the pain he had carried all these years. My mother may have moved on with her life, but Mathew was stuck, clinging to what little hope he had left. He truly loved my mother. 

I tried to wipe the tears from my cheeks, but before I could process the moment further, the room began to shift around me. 

The hospital dissolved, and I found myself in a familiar setting—the old wooden house where we used to live. I stood in the living room, and the comforting scent of freshly baked cookies filled the air, triggering a flood of memories. Aunt Camelia's baking—it was like being wrapped in warmth and love. 

But then, a voice broke through my thoughts. My mother's voice. I couldn't help but follow it, my curiosity drawing me into another room. 

I stopped in my tracks at the sight before me. My mother was on her knees, her vibrant red hair catching the light, her eyes sparkling with joy. Across from her stood Uncle Jacob, holding little me in his arms. 

"Haylie, come to Mommy!" my mother called softly, her voice full of love and encouragement. 

My gaze shifted to the toddler version of myself—a tiny, wide-eyed one-year-old dressed in an adorable white-and-blue outfit, with red curls tied up in a blue bow. I couldn't help but smile. I looked so innocent and full of life. 

Little me clung tightly to Uncle Jacob's hands as he held me steady. I realized what this moment was: the first time I walked. 

"Come to Mommy, Haylie," my mother encouraged again, her arms stretched out toward me. She was radiant—her smile lit up the room, and her joy was contagious. She looked so alive, so happy. 

This memory was precious, the kind of moment I wished I could hold onto forever. 

I watched as little me hesitated, then let go of Uncle Jacob's hands. Wobbling for a moment, I took one tiny, determined step, then another, until I fell into my mother's waiting arms. Her laughter and cheers filled the room as she wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. 

My first steps. 

This was a memory I would cherish forever, a glimpse of a time when everything felt perfect. 

The room began to shift again, faster this time, leaving me feeling unsteady. My stomach turned as the world around me blurred and transformed. The ground beneath my feet shifted, and when everything settled, I found myself standing in a park. 

But it wasn't just any park. As I looked around, recognition dawned on me—it was my park, the one I used to visit after school to skate. It looked exactly as I remembered, down to the graffiti-covered benches and the well-worn paths. 

A rush of familiarity hit me, and with it, more of my memories came flooding back. I was beginning to remember who I was. 

The sound of my mother's joyful laughter caught my attention, pulling me from my thoughts. I turned toward the sound and saw her and Uncle Jacob at the park, busy showing little me how to skate. 

This version of myself was older than the toddler I had just seen. I must have been about four years old. My red hair had grown longer, and I wore a tiny skateboard helmet, jeans, and sneakers. My tiny skateboard was decorated with colorful stickers, and I looked absolutely adorable. 

I watched as Uncle Jacob demonstrated a few moves on his own skateboard. My mother stood nearby, laughing and clapping her hands in delight. The four-year-old me was completely captivated, watching him with wide, excited eyes. 

I remembered now—this was how I had learned to skate. Uncle Jacob had been like a real father to me, patient and encouraging as he showed me tricks and taught me how to balance. My mother, always supportive, cheered me on and laughed at our antics. 

The younger me grinned, clapping her hands as Uncle Jacob finished a trick. "That's so cool!" I exclaimed, hopping on my little skateboard. Determined, I tried to mimic his moves, wobbling a little but refusing to give up. 

I watched the scene with a bittersweet smile. 

 The happiness radiating from this memory was overwhelming. This park had been my sanctuary, and skating had been my way of feeling free. Now, I understood why I always felt drawn back to this place—it was filled with the love and encouragement my mother and Uncle Jacob had given me. 

JC POV  

After we finished our coffee, I gently scooped Haylie into my arms. Her body was stiff, lifeless, but by now, I had grown so used to the scent of her that it no longer bothered me—it only deepened the ache in my chest. 

The early morning light filtered through the trees, and the crisp breeze carried the scent of mountain flowers. It was serene, almost deceptively peaceful, as we made our way up the path to the cave where the water was said to be. 

I prayed that this would work, that Klinton's plan wasn't just a desperate hope. He'd warned me there was only a fifty-fifty chance, but even those odds were better than nothing. 

As we reached the cave, anxiety began to claw at my heart. I tightened my hold on Haylie, cradling her closer to my chest. The air inside the cave was sharp and cold, and it sent a shiver down my spine as we stepped inside. 

"We're here," Klinton announced, his voice echoing through the vast space. 

I followed closely as we moved deeper into the cave. Sunlight broke through cracks in the ceiling, casting golden beams that lit our path. Eventually, we arrived at an underground pool, its surface shimmering faintly in the dim light. Klinton halted before the water and turned to face me. 

"This water holds powerful properties," he explained, his voice reverberating off the stone walls. "It will help me connect to her spirit." 

I glanced around, taking in the scene. The water cascaded from a cliff within the cave, its rhythmic flow filling the silence. 

Strange, ancient carvings adorned the rocky walls, their meanings lost to time but radiating an aura of mystery and power. 

"Will this really work?" I asked nervously, my voice barely above a whisper. 

Klinton's brown eyes met mine, steady and resolute. "It will work," he said firmly, "but I need you to wait here. I'll take Haylie and jump into the water. Trust me." 

I bit down on my lower lip, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I wanted to argue, to hold Haylie close and never let her go, but I knew I had come here for help. Klinton had been my guide, and I had to believe in him now. 

"Okay," I said after a long pause, exhaling deeply. "I'll wait." 

Reluctantly, I handed Haylie over to Klinton, my hands trembling as I released her. My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him turn toward the water, preparing for what was to come.