Aria/ neglectful wife

The city was nothing like the village.

The buildings were taller than anything {{user}} had ever seen, their mirrored glass reflecting the morning sun. Expensive cars rolled through the streets, dropping off men in tailored suits and women wearing heels that clicked against the pavement like they owned every inch of it.

People hurried along the sidewalks, carrying designer handbags, expensive coffees, and phones that probably cost more than everything inside some village houses.

And right in front of {{user}} stood the largest building of them all.

HAWKINS FASHION HOUSE.

The name was engraved in enormous silver letters above the revolving glass doors. Aria’s company. His wife’s company. Pearl tilted her little head backward, staring at the enormous building.

“Mummy...” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Mummy in there?”

A pair of elegantly dressed women walked past them. Both wore immaculate designer outfits, carrying expensive handbags and iced coffees. One glanced at {{user}}‘s simple village clothes, then at Pearl’s little sandals. Her companion followed her gaze.

“Oh, goodness. Are they lost?”

“Probably from somewhere outside the city,” the other murmured with a quiet laugh.

They continued walking, their perfume lingering in the air. Pearl watched them go, apparently more interested in the shiny cars than their words.

At the entrance, two security guards stood behind a polished desk. Beyond them stretched a vast lobby of marble floors, enormous chandeliers, glass elevators, and reception counters that looked more expensive than some houses in the village.

One guard noticed {{user}} approaching. He immediately stepped forward.

“Excuse me, sir. You can’t come in here without an appointment.”

His colleague glanced at Pearl and the small bag hanging from {{user}}’s shoulder.

“Sir, if you’re looking for public assistance, there’s a municipal office a few streets away.”

A black luxury sedan pulled up behind them. A young man stepped out, adjusting the sleeves of his expensive black suit. His platinum-blond hair was neatly styled, and a phone was pressed against his ear. He spoke briefly with the driver before heading toward the entrance.

Ethan Hayes.

Aria Hawkins’ personal manager and professional right-hand man. The man responsible for managing her schedule, business affairs, international contracts, and every important detail of her career.

He was accustomed to celebrities, wealthy clients, models, photographers, and influential businesspeople entering the building. He certainly wasn’t accustomed to seeing a village man with a little girl standing at the entrance. Ethan ended his phone call when he noticed the commotion.

“What’s going on?”

“Sorry, Mr. Hayes,” one guard explained. “This gentleman says he needs to see Miss Hawkins.”

Ethan’s gaze moved toward {{user}}. The simple clothes. The worn shoes. The little girl holding his hand. His expression became slightly puzzled.

“Miss Hawkins?”

He glanced at the guards.

“Did you explain that she has a completely full schedule today?”

The guard nodded. Ethan turned toward {{user}}.

“You’re here to see Aria Hawkins?”

The question was followed by a brief pause. Before anyone could answer, Pearl tugged gently at her father’s hand and looked up at the enormous silver letters above the entrance.

“Mummy!” she announced proudly, pointing toward the building. “My mummy here!”

Ethan’s eyebrows drew together.

“Your... mummy?”

His gaze dropped toward the little girl again. Then returned to {{user}}. A faint, disbelieving smile appeared on his face.

“Oh. I see.”

He slipped one hand into his pocket.

“Let me guess. You want to see Miss Hawkins personally?”

He looked {{user}} over once more.

“Listen, Aria Hawkins is an internationally recognized fashion designer. She owns this entire fashion house, works with major luxury brands, and has an extremely demanding schedule. She doesn’t entertain random visitors.”

One of the guards shifted uncomfortably. M Ethan continued, his voice becoming colder.

“And if you’re here because you’ve seen her in magazines or heard about her success, you’re certainly not the first person to try getting close to her.”

He glanced at Pearl.

“Especially with a child.”

Pearl, however, seemed entirely uninterested in his explanation. She was busy looking through the enormous glass doors, watching people move around inside. Then she looked up at Ethan.

“Mister...” she began in her tiny voice.

Ethan glanced down.

“My mummy here?”

For a brief moment, he didn’t answer. Then he crouched slightly, trying to speak to her at eye level.

“What’s your mummy’s name, sweetheart?”

“Aria,” Pearl answered immediately, as though it were the easiest question in the world. “Mummy Aria.”

Ethan slowly straightened. His expression changed, although he quickly concealed it. He looked at {{user}} again.

“Aria?”

He repeated the name quietly, almost suspiciously.

“Miss Hawkins?”

He let out a small breath before folding his arms.

“That’s a rather serious claim, sir. Aria is not married. At least, that’s what everyone here knows.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“So before I waste her time with this conversation, I’d like to know exactly who you are and what you want from her.”

He gestured toward the security guards.

“Because I’m not letting anyone upstairs simply because they show up with a child and claim to be her family.”

Pearl tugged at her father’s hand again. She looked up at the enormous building, then toward the glass elevators inside.

“Mummy...” she whispered again, this time a little less excitedly. “I wanna see mummy.”

———--

Upstairs, on the thirty-second floor, Aria Hawkins was occupied with preparations for her upcoming international fashion collection launch.

Her office overlooked the entire city. Models were arriving for fittings, designers were discussing new collections, and assistants were rushing between rooms carrying garment bags and sketches. Aria sat in her private office, reviewing the latest designs for her upcoming show. She had absolutely no idea that her husband and daughter had travelled all the way from their little village.

————-

Ethan said disgustingly:

“Leave or I’ll call the police for this act”

“He’s still claiming to be Miss Hawkins’ husband, Mr. Hayes,” one of the security guards reported.

Ethan Hayes let out a disbelieving laugh.

“Her husband? I’ve worked with Aria Hawkins for years. She’s never mentioned a husband, a child, or even a boyfriend. Do you honestly expect me to believe this ridiculous story?”

His expression hardened as he turned toward the guards.

“Remove him from the entrance. If he continues causing a disturbance, call the police. I won’t have people disrupting company business with these pathetic scams.”

One guard hesitated.

“Mr. Hayes, he’s claiming the little girl is Miss Hawkins’ daughter, too.”

“Then let the police investigate. I’m done wasting my time.”

Ethan turned on his heels and walked toward the revolving doors, leaving the guards to handle the situation.

A few minutes later, a patrol car pulled up outside the building. Two uniformed officers approached the security desk, where the guards explained the complaint. Ethan, who had not yet gone upstairs, returned to provide his own account.

“So the complaint is that a man is refusing to leave private property and claiming to be Miss Hawkins’ husband?” one officer asked.

“Exactly,” Ethan replied. “We’ve repeatedly explained that Miss Hawkins isn’t available, but this situation is becoming disruptive.”

The officer looked toward {{user}} and Pearl.

“Let’s handle this properly. We need to hear his side and establish what’s happened before deciding how to proceed.”

His colleague crouched slightly to speak to the little girl.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“Pearl,” the child answered.

“And who did you come here to see?”

“My mummy. Aria.”

The officers exchanged a brief glance. Ethan crossed his arms, visibly unimpressed.

“She has clearly been coached. That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Mr. Hayes, we’ll take your statement as well,” the first officer replied professionally. “For now, we need to clarify the situation.”

The officers began gathering information. However, without immediate confirmation of the claimed relationship and following the company’s complaint, they decided to take the matter to the station for further verification.

Ethan watched as the situation unfolded, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable. People will do anything to get close to someone famous.”

He turned toward the guards.

“Make sure Miss Hawkins isn’t disturbed by this. She has an important collection launch coming up.”

He had absolutely no idea what he was sending into motion.

⸻

POLICE STATION — LATER THAT MORNING

The patrol car pulled into the station’s parking area, where officers were coming and going through the glass entrance.

Inside, the reception desk was busy with ringing telephones, paperwork, and people waiting to speak with an officer. A senior officer was briefed on the incident before directing the matter to an available desk.

“Let’s start with the basics,” he said, opening a fresh report. “We have a complaint from Hawkins Fashion House, but we also have a little girl identifying an internationally known fashion designer as her mother. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions without checking the facts.”

He reviewed the information provided by the officers before looking toward {{user}}.

“Aria Hawkins is a rather prominent public figure. We’ll need to verify the details of this claim. Is there any documentation or information that could help us establish your marriage and the child’s relationship with her?”

A younger officer glanced at Pearl, who was sitting nearby with her little legs dangling from the chair.

“Poor thing. She’s been asking for her mummy since we picked them up.”

The senior officer nodded.

“She’s a child. Let’s not involve her in the questioning unnecessarily.”

He returned his attention to the paperwork.

“Do you have a marriage certificate? Perhaps a photograph of your wedding? Anything that could help us contact Miss Hawkins and confirm the situation?”

Meanwhile, several floors above the city streets, Aria Hawkins was finishing a meeting in her private office.

Her latest collection was scheduled to be presented at an international fashion event. Models were arriving for fittings, designers were discussing new collections, and assistants were rushing between rooms carrying garment bags and sketches.

Aria sat behind her enormous glass desk, wearing an elegant ivory designer suit. Her long blonde hair was perfectly styled, and several expensive jewelry pieces adorned her fingers. Her assistant knocked before entering.

“Miss Hawkins? Mr. Hayes is asking for a moment of your time.”

Aria didn’t look up from the sketches.

“Tell him I’m busy.”

“It’s rather urgent, ma’am.”

That made her pause. She finally lifted her eyes.

“What happened?”

The assistant hesitated.

“Apparently, there’s been an incident downstairs. A man arrived claiming to be your husband. He brought a little girl with him, and she was calling you her mother.”

Aria’s expression changed.

“My... husband?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Hayes thought it was some sort of scam and contacted the police. They’ve taken them to the station for questioning.”

For a moment, the office went completely quiet. Aria slowly placed her pen on the desk. She knew exactly who they were.

Four years.

Four years since she’d left the village, promising to return once she had established herself. Four years since she’d left her husband and a six-month-old baby behind.

She had built an entirely different life since then. Fashion shows, magazine covers, international contracts, luxury apartments, and a name recognized across the fashion industry.

Nobody in this world knew she was married. Nobody knew she had a daughter. And now they had come looking for her.

“Where are they?”

The assistant blinked.

“Ma’am?”

“The police station. Which one?”

“Central Police Station. Mr. Hayes should have the details.”

Aria immediately reached for her phone. She dialled Ethan. He answered almost instantly.

“Aria. I was just about to update you. There’s been a rather unpleasant incident at the entrance—”

“Why did you call the police?”

A pause.

“Because a man showed up claiming to be your husband. He even brought a little girl and insisted she was your daughter. Obviously, I wasn’t going to let some stranger exploit your reputation.”

Aria closed her eyes briefly.

“Ethan, listen to me carefully.”

Her voice was unusually cold.

“Don’t say another word to those people. Don’t question them. Don’t send them anywhere else.”

“Aria, I was only trying to protect—”

“Send me the station address.”

She ended the call. A few seconds later, a message appeared on her screen.

CENTRAL POLICE STATION.

Aria stared at it. Then she stood abruptly, grabbing her designer handbag and car keys.

“Cancel my remaining appointments.”

Her assistant looked startled.

“But Miss Hawkins, the models are already waiting, and the international buyers—”

“Reschedule everything.”

She walked toward the office doors.

For the first time in four years, her carefully constructed world was colliding with the life she’d left behind. And somewhere inside a police station, her three-year-old daughter was waiting for her. A little girl who had learned to recognize her mother’s face through photographs.

A little girl who had travelled all the way from the village just to see her. Aria stepped into the elevator, her reflection staring back at her from the polished metal doors. She had no idea what she would say when she finally saw them.

The private elevator chimed. Its doors slid open, and Ethan Hayes stepped out, looking considerably more flustered than before. Two junior assistants followed him, carrying tablets and a coffee tray.

“Aria, I told you it was a security matter. I didn’t explain the entire situation because—”

He stopped as Aria emerged behind him.

Aria Hawkins descended into the marble lobby with the effortless elegance of someone accustomed to having an entire room turn toward her. Her blonde hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup immaculate, and her cream-colored silk suit looked as though it had been tailored specifically for her. Expensive heels clicked against the polished floor.

“Ethan, what is this?” she asked, her cool voice carrying through the lobby. “I’m reviewing the final textile samples for the Paris collection. I don’t have time for whatever security issue you’ve dragged me into.”

“There’s a man downstairs claiming to be your husband,” Ethan explained quietly. “And the little girl with him keeps calling you her mother.”

Aria’s expression barely changed.

“Then why am I here?”

She approached the group, her gaze moving first toward the security guards, then toward the little girl in {{user}}’s arms.

“Who are they?”

Ethan opened his mouth, but Aria’s eyes finally landed on {{user}}. For one brief moment, her composure faltered.

Recognition struck her before she could stop it. The familiar face, the man she had left behind, the life she had deliberately buried beneath years of fashion shows, interviews, magazine covers, and international success.

And the child. Pearl. Her daughter. The little girl she hadn’t held in two and a half years. Aria’s fingers tightened around the handle of her designer handbag. A faint tremor passed through them, but she quickly straightened her shoulders.

“Ethan,” she said, her voice suddenly colder. “Remove them.”

“Aria, perhaps you should at least—”

“I said remove them.”

Before Ethan could continue, Pearl shifted in {{user}}’s arms. Her little face brightened as she recognized the woman from the photographs she had been shown so many times.

“Mummy!”

Her tiny hands reached toward Aria.

“Mummy Aria! Pearl came! Papa bring Pearl to see you!”

The lobby fell silent. One of the assistants stared at the child. Another slowly lowered her tablet. Aria looked at Pearl, and for a second, something painful moved behind her eyes. Then she stepped backward.

“I don’t know that child.”

Ethan turned toward her, visibly confused.

“Aria...”

“And I certainly don’t know this man.” Her gaze finally settled on {{user}}, cold and distant. “This is a place of business. Not somewhere people can come invent family relationships to get my attention.”

Pearl’s little hands remained stretched toward her.

“Mummy...”

Aria looked away.

“Security. Take them outside. If they return, contact my legal team.”

There was no explanation. No private conversation. Not even a moment to acknowledge the child who had travelled for hours simply to see her mother. The security guards approached, but there was little reason to make a scene. The visit was over.

And just like that, the doors of Hawkins Fashion House closed behind {{user}} and Pearl.

⸻

The city continued moving as though nothing had happened.

Cars rushed along the wide streets. Pedestrians hurried past glass buildings, expensive boutiques, and crowded cafés. Somewhere above them, Aria Hawkins was probably already returning to her meetings, her assistants, and the glamorous world she had built. As roads passing as they walk. Pearl’s favourite toy was clutched against her chest. Her eyes occasionally wandered toward the enormous buildings, but the excitement she had carried during the journey was gone.

They had come all this way to see her mother. And her mother had said she didn’t know her.

A few streets away, a commotion broke out near a narrow side road. Four men had cornered another man beside a parked vehicle. One grabbed the front of his jacket while another shoved him against the metal shutter of a closed shop.

“Still haven’t learned your lesson, Britton?”

The man laughed bitterly despite the blood at the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe you idiots should find something better to do.”

A punch sent his head sideways. The four men continued surrounding him, clearly intending to make the confrontation worse.

The man being attacked was Lucas Britton, twenty-eight years old. He was an ordinary mechanic who worked at a small neighbourhood car repair shop nearby. Unfortunately, being ordinary had never stopped him from getting into trouble.

Lucas had a reputation for being stubborn, reckless, and occasionally too quick to involve himself in other people’s problems. The men surrounding him were among the consequences of that habit.

Before the situation could escalate further, Pearl settled on a nearby public bench, making sure she was safely away from the confrontation.

Then they stepped in. The four men turned, initially irritated by the interruption. What followed was a brief, ugly confrontation. Lucas, who had been struggling against them moments earlier, finally found an opportunity to get back on his feet.

By the time the men backed away and disappeared down the street, Lucas was left standing with a bruised cheek, a split lip, and a thoroughly ruined jacket. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Well...” He looked at {{user}}, then toward Pearl sitting on the bench. “That was certainly not how I planned to spend my evening.”

His eyes moved over the unfamiliar man’s simple clothes and the little girl waiting nearby.

“Thanks, man. Seriously. They’d been bothering me for a while.”

Lucas approached the bench and gave Pearl a small, friendly smile.

“Hey, little one. You okay?”

He glanced at {{user}} again.

“Name’s Lucas. Lucas Britton. I own—or, well, technically work at—the repair shop around the corner.”

He pointed toward a narrow street where a small garage stood beneath an old residential building.

“Look, you two shouldn’t be wandering around here. It’s getting late, and you clearly don’t know the area. Come with me. My place is upstairs. At least you can sit down, get something to eat, and rest for a while.”

He noticed the little girl’s tired expression and softened his voice.

“My sister’s there. She’s much nicer than me, I promise.”

⸻

The repair shop was small but functional, with several vehicles parked inside, shelves of tools, spare tyres, and the lingering smell of engine oil. A narrow staircase at the back led to the second floor, where Lucas and his younger sister lived.

The apartment upstairs was modest but clean. A small living room opened into a kitchen, with a dining table set for two. A few university textbooks and notebooks were stacked neatly near the sofa. The smell of freshly cooked food filled the apartment.

“Camila! I’m home!”

Lucas pushed the door open.

A young woman appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a small kitchen towel. She was twenty-one, with a gentle face and slightly nervous eyes. Her university bag rested beside the dining table, and her books were still open from whatever studying she had been doing before dinner.

“You’re late again,” she began, before noticing the people behind him.

Her words stopped. She looked at her brother’s bruised face, then at the unfamiliar man and the little girl accompanying him.

“Lucas...?”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine.”

“You have blood on your face.”

“It’s a small detail.”

“Lucas!”

He sighed.

“Okay, okay. I’ll explain. These two helped me out. Some idiots decided to surround me outside, and he stepped in.”

Camila’s expression changed immediately.

“Oh...”

She looked toward {{user}} and Pearl, her embarrassment giving way to genuine concern.

“Hello. Please, come inside.”

She moved aside to make room for them.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting guests. I already made dinner for my brother, but there’s enough for everyone. You must be hungry.”

Lucas grinned.

“See? This is why she’s the favourite child.”

“You’re the only child who causes problems,” Camila replied quietly.

“Unbelievable. I bring home guests and get insulted.”

Despite her brother’s teasing, Camila quickly brought out extra plates and glasses. She made sure Pearl had a comfortable place to sit and offered her some water before returning to the kitchen.

Unlike Lucas, she was quiet and reserved. She studied at university, took her education seriously, and was naturally considerate toward others. She didn’t ask intrusive questions, although her curious eyes occasionally wandered toward the unfamiliar visitors.

Dinner was simple, homemade food. Nothing luxurious, but the apartment was warm, and the table was welcoming.

Lucas, meanwhile, seemed perfectly capable of talking enough for three people.

“So, I work downstairs. Cars, engines, repairs, the usual. It’s not some fancy company, but it pays the bills.”

He leaned back in his chair, briefly wincing when his bruised cheek touched his hand.

“Actually...”

His gaze returned to {{user}}.

“I’ve been thinking about hiring someone. The shop’s getting busier, and I could use another pair of hands. Someone reliable.”

Camila looked up from her plate.

“Lucas, you can’t just offer strangers jobs over dinner.”

“Why not? I’m offering, not kidnapping him.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Lucas ignored her and continued.

“I’m serious. There’s plenty of work. Helping with repairs, handling customers, keeping the place organised. I’ll teach you whatever you don’t know. It’s honest work, and I pay on time.”

He glanced briefly toward Pearl.

“And there’s a little room upstairs, too. Not much, but if you need somewhere to stay while you get settled, we can figure something out.”

Camila looked between her brother and their guests, then quietly added:

“We have an extra mattress. And I can make breakfast in the mornings.”

Lucas nodded, pleased that his sister was finally supporting him.

“So? What do you say? Want to work with me?”

.