Page 75 of Broken Destiny

Original identity and an escape.

I studied her face closely, waiting for her eyes to dart away or her composure to crack, but she held my gaze without flinching, her expression calm and unwavering.

“What does it mean?”

“A friend told me once thatJiyameans ‘heart’ or ‘soul’ in Hindi,” she said. “Life. Something that keeps beating no matter what happens.”

“AndFlores?” I asked, unable to stop myself.

A faint smile touched her lips, but it did not quite reach her eyes.

“It’s Spanish,” she said. “It means flowers.”

Flowers. Life. Heart.

I studied her face again, letting the meaning roll through my mind.

“So your name means a heart that keeps blooming,” I said slowly.

Her gaze lifted to mine, and for a fleeting second, her lips parted, and the tension in her face eased before her shoulders straightened and the guarded look returned to her eyes.

“Maybe,” she murmured.

“And how come you chose this village?”

She lowered her gaze, her fingers curling more tightly around the phone.

“A—” she began.

The door burst open, and the children came running into the house, their voices loud and energetic as they interrupted us.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, glancing toward them. “It’s bath time. I’ll be right back.”

I nodded and stepped aside, watching her scoop Emma into her arms while reaching out to take Lucas’s hand.

I stood there in silence as she guided the children upstairs, their footsteps fading into the distance.

My thoughts returned immediately to the question she hadn’t answered.

What explanation could she possibly give that would change what I believed?

Because no matter how much this place rattled me, no matter how little the woman in this house resembled the one I had spent years hating, one thing remained.

The truth sat inside my wallet, tucked securely in my pocket.

“There’sthis kid named Thomas. His brother is four years old and funny,” Lucas said. “Last time when they were having dinner, his brother said, ‘My butt is itchy, but did you know forks make good scratchers?’ and then his brother took a big bite of pasta off his fork.So gross.” Lucas scrunched up his face, and then two seconds later, he burst into laughter. “But so funny.”

“Lucas...” Jiya said, giving him a warning look. “Watch what you say when we’re eating dinner.”

“Sorry, Mama,” he replied quickly. “I thought I’d forget the story if I didn’t tell it now.”

Jiya shook her head and rolled her eyes.

I let out a chuckle. I couldn’t believe how sweet and obedient Lucas still was. That respectful nature I remembered about him had remained unchanged.

“Mama, I no eat cawiflowah,” Emma said, pouting as she pushed the vegetable around her plate. “I hate it.”

“Me too,” I said, pushing my own cauliflower to the side just like she had done, smiling at her.