Chapter 3

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Myra let out a shaky breath when Tristan called their butler John and commanded him to show Myra one of the spare room. Myra shivered in fear when she saw how Tristan was masking his emotions.

She followed the butler John upstairs, fearfully passing the triplets- Arles, Emilio and Enrique who kept glaring at her.

Max looked no more than 15 years old and the triplets looked a around her age. But the way they glare, it looked like they can kill someone by their murderous eyes.

John asked the little girl her name. Myra replied to him shyly. The old man John was a kind hearted person and he could imagine the misery that Myra had to gone through. Her eyes showed the hints of the pain when he asked her about her parents.

He was shocked when he learnt that she was seven almost eight years old. She looked so frail and tiny that he mistook thinking she was at least a little lower than 5.

He eventually took his leave, leaving Myra to mingle with her own created loneliness and life sorrows. She winced everytime she remembered the way people showed disgust and called her by mean words. Myra had lived on the streets, since she could remember. Her aunt Timmy told her that she found her near her sleeping place. Timmy was also a street beggar.

At that time Myra looked like a new born. Barely breathing and so tiny. Timmy thought that she was going to die any coming second but surprisingly the newborn survived this fight. But Myra always thought that Timmy was hiding something. Timmy never gave the new born any name. Timmy always called her by different affectionate names but never did once called her by any other real name else.

Timmy decided to take her under her care. Timmy always said that Myra was God's special gift. Myra never tended to believe that.

Myra still remembered that horrific memory when Timmy and some other beggars were crushed under a big truck. They all were sleeping like other days by wrapping the blanket of sky on them when suddenly Myra woke up startled, hearing the loud horns of the truck and in next second there were blood curling screams.

Her heart was broken. She was traumatized. She couldn't see anything of this but what she heard was the reason of her nightmares. Death was singing in her ears.

She heard people saying that she was the only one who survived this fatal accident. Due to her tiny frame, she was out of the reach of truck. But somehow those cruel society people blamed this accident on her telling a 4 years old that she was a curse.

Her physical inability being blind didn't lessened her problems. She again somehow managed to survive the next 3 years alone on the streets. No one wanted to help her. To take her in. No one wanted to adopt the poor child who was desperately in the need of love and family.

That's when she decided to hide herself from this world. She somehow found that old cardboard box that she was used to call her home, to hide. She would sleep the whole day, sometimes hearing the buzzing of people and their vehicles on roads. When there were much lesser sounds her ears picked, she would assume that it as a night time.

This was the time to find the food to calm the roaring and growling of her stomach. She would always search the dumpsters for any sort of eat able thing. Sometimes she would stay starving throughout many days and nights. She was grateful that her little belly could only eat and digest a very small amount of food.

She spent those three dreadful years in her cardboard box home with a small rugged blanket. Hardly surviving through the blood freezing winter and harsh summers.

But her whole life was upside down when Victor entered.

That day she heard everything. How those bad guys were badly beating him but she heard none of his cries or winces. His voice was empty, cold. It didn't even only scared her but those bad guys too.

Myra snapped out of her thoughts when her room door was opened and Tristan stepped inside with a small smile.

She ushered to sit up on the bed. A nervousness washed over her immediately.

Where was Vic?

Her only thought.

"Hii Sweetheart." Myra swallowed harshly at the way his voice sounded. It was velvety smooth, just like Victor.

"Mind if I sit here?" He asked.

"I-it's y-your home, S-sir!" She replied.

"It's yours too, sweetheart." He said.

"What's your name?" He asked curiously.

"M-myra."

"Such a pretty name. How old are you little Myra?" He continued.

"S-seven s-sir." She whispered.

For few moments, Tristan stared at her face a little surprised.

"Oh. Hmm. You don't have to call me Sir though." He told her. Myra gave him a confused look.

"You can call me Papa." Myra stared at his face shocked when he said those words bluntly but softly.

"P-papa?" Her voice shaky.

"Yes! I and my wife always wanted a little babygirl." Myra's heart clenched when she saw how his face morphed into a extreme sad look. He didn't even hide it this time.

"I mean only if you want and when you are fully ready to accept us as your family, of course." He smiled and patted her head. This small action warmed Myra's heart.

After then he took his leave, leaving Myra alone again with jumbled up thoughts.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<

"Victor!" Tristan called his son's name when he found him standing outside the Myra's door and listening to their conversation.

"Thanks dad." Tristan smiled lightly when Victor moved forward to give him a hug.

"I know that you needed a distraction from everything that had happened in past. No matter what you do, you will always find me standing near you, supporting you, my son. Because I know you can never be wrong." Tristan sighed and patted Victor's shoulder.

"Myra is a sweet girl. She just looks lost and so broken. Make sure that no one dare to hurt her at any point." Tristan smiled mentioning Myra's name.

"I will."

"I forgot to mention, they called yesterday. Their wedding date is coming closer. I am trying to convince Triplets. But it's a hard task."

"Don't worry about them." Victor assured him.

"What about Myra? Do you want to bring her in public? This is so soon."

"She's now a part of our family, father! She will go everywhere, we will go!"





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