Forbiddenly Bound To You
Chapter 103: Fatherly Love

Chapter 103: Fatherly Love

As the apartment door swung open, little Zami dashed to the door with excitement, her small feet pattering against the wooden floor. She beelined straight to her grandpa, throwing her tiny arms around his leg and hugging him tightly. "Welcome back, Gweat Gwandpa!" Her words were soft and slightly unclear—still marked by the struggles of a child learning to speak.

Mira’s grandpa chuckled warmly, bending down to lift his great granddaughter into his arms. "Oh, my precious girl! Happy Birthday!" he said, his voice filled with affection.

Zami’s face lit up with delight, her eyes twinkling like stars. "Thank you berry much, Gweat Gwandpa!" she exclaimed, her words stumbling adorably over each other. Her grandpa reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gift wrapped in shiny pink paper. Instantly, Zami’s giggles turned to excited squeals as she bounced in his arms. "Yay! ’Nother gift!" she cheered, her joy bubbling over.

Seeing Zami’s happiness made Mira’s heart swell with love. The warm glow of her daughter’s joy was all she ever wanted. In that moment, every hardship, every sacrifice felt completely worth it.

Grandpa set Zami down, handing her the present. She tore into the wrapping paper with eager little hands, revealing a small, delicate cup and a child-sized umbrella decorated with colorful princess cartoons. Zami’s eyes grew wide with astonishment, and her mouth formed a perfect ’O’ of surprise. She had always wanted her very own umbrella—just her size—ever since she had seen one on TV while watching cartoons with her grandpa. The fact that he had remembered such a small, passing wish touched her deeply.

Overwhelmed, Zami launched herself into his arms again, hugging him tightly. Mira couldn’t help but smile even wider. For her, Zami was the embodiment of all things good and innocent—a light that had brightened her darkest days. There were moments when she still marveled that she, who had endured so much, could have something so precious.

After a few moments, Zami pulled away from her great-grandfather and sprinted over to Mira, clutching the little umbrella as if it were a treasure. "Mummy! Gweat Gwandpa got me a pwetty pwesent!" she said, thrusting her new belongings up for inspection with an enthusiastic grin.

Mira nodded, bending down to gather Zami in her arms. "Happy Birthday again, sweetheart," she said, her voice thick with emotion. She kissed Zami’s forehead gently, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over her.

As they stood together, Mira’s grandpa approached, his eyes filled with a mixture of joy and a hint of sorrow. "We should go get the cake now," he said, glancing at the clock on the wall. "The delivery company’s car is out of commission, so we have to pick it up ourselves."

Mira’s brows furrowed. "But we already paid for delivery," she said, confusion and frustration mingling in her tone.

Her grandpa sighed, his face apologetic. "I know, but they had an emergency. Their car broke down, so they begged us to come ourselves. They promised they’d compensate us with something else."

Mira relaxed a little, relieved to hear there would be compensation. "Alright then, we’ll manage. As long as Zami gets her birthday cake, that’s all that matters."

Zami, who had been listening intently, clapped her hands in excitement. "Yay! Cake! Cake!" she chanted, jumping up and down. Her anticipation was almost contagious, and Mira couldn’t help but smile at her daughter’s enthusiasm.

"Mummy, when is Uncle Mawk coming for da celebwation?" Zami suddenly asked, looking up at her mother with wide, hopeful eyes.

Mira’s face softened at the mention of Uncle Mark, a dear friend who had stood by her through thick and thin. "He’ll be here soon, baby," she assured Zami, brushing a stray curl from her daughter’s forehead. "He’s bringing your gift too."

Zami beamed, her face lighting up at the thought. Uncle Mark had always been one of her favorite people—he was the one who had rushed them to the hospital when Zami had come down with a severe cold, staying by their side the entire time. Mira couldn’t imagine celebrating this day without him.

"Okay, Zami, let’s get you ready," Mira said, gently tugging at Zami’s hand. "We’re heading out soon to get your cake."

Zami nodded enthusiastically and allowed her mother to lead her back inside the apartment to get ready. As they disappeared down the hall, Mira’s grandpa remained standing near the door, watching them go with a lingering expression of regret. His gaze softened as he thought of Mira’s past—of the lonely, difficult times she had endured without him by her side.

He still felt the sting of guilt whenever he looked at Mira. It wasn’t his fault that Mira’s father had hidden the family’s financial struggles and debts, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should have been there for her, to comfort her when she needed it the most. He had allowed himself to be manipulated by Zamian’s instructions to keep his distance, and now those lost years haunted him like a specter. But seeing Mira’s current happiness, a contented smile settled on his face. She had found joy, and that was what mattered most.

Mira had long braced herself for the day when Zami would inevitably ask about her father. She knew she couldn’t avoid it forever; no matter how much love and care she gave, a child would always yearn for a father’s presence. Only if Zamian had been more cooperative back then, things might have turned out differently, you know?

They soon left the apartment and settled into the cab, with Zami snugly seated between her mother and great-grandfather. Mira’s thoughts drifted as the car rumbled down the road. She couldn’t help but wonder why the cake delivery had failed, given that she had already made the payment in advance.

"Gweat Gwandpa, why didn’t they bwing da cake?" Zami asked curiously, her little brows furrowed.

Mira grandpa gently patted her knee. "The car had some trouble, sweetie. It broke down, so we have to go get it ourselves."

Though she was there when Mira’s grandad told Mira about it but she only heard cake.

"Oh, okay!" Zami said, accepting the explanation easily. She turned back to the window, pressing her face against the glass to watch the buildings whiz by. Her earlier frustration had vanished, replaced by the excitement of going out to get her cake.

Mira, meanwhile, occupied herself with her phone. She was juggling a side job selling gift cards—a business she had taken up out of necessity, which had surprisingly turned profitable over the years.

Back then, she had walked away from her past life, leaving behind the money and comfort she once knew.

Despite Zamian’s efforts, she had refused to touch any of the allowances he had sent her during those difficult months, nor had she touched the account he had linked to her name. Even though any withdrawal would have gone unnoticed amidst Zamian’s wealth, Mira couldn’t bring herself to rely on someone else’s money, especially his. It was her hard-earned income that had sustained them during those early, challenging years, providing for Zami when times were the hardest.

"Mummy, Gweat Gwandpa, the buildings are so beautiful!" Zami exclaimed suddenly, her face glowing with fascination as she admired the tall, glittering skyscrapers that blurred past them.

"Yes, they are, darling," Mira replied, glancing up from her phone with a smile. "Aren’t they just so big and shiny?"

"Yup!" Zami nodded eagerly, her little face pressed close to the window. "They wook like the pwetty houses in my dweams!"

Her grandpa chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. "One day, you’ll have a beautiful house just like those, I promise."

Zami’s eyes widened at the thought. "Weally, Gweat Gwandpa?"

"Really," he affirmed, his smile soft and filled with hope.

Just then, the chauffeur’s voice interrupted them. "We’re here," he announced, slowing the car to a stop in front of a large, bustling building.

"Thank wyou, sir," Zami said politely, her tiny voice full of sweetness. The driver smiled, clearly charmed by her politeness. Mira had worked hard to teach Zami the importance of manners—to be kind and respectful without being spoiled.

"Oh, thank you," Mira echoed, smiling back at the driver as she gathered her things. He gave a small nod, clearly warmed by the little girl’s charm.

As they stepped out of the cab and waved goodbye to the driver, Mira’s gaze followed Zami, who was already running ahead toward the entrance. The birthday girl’s energy seemed boundless, and Mira couldn’t help but laugh as she chased after her, making sure to keep Zami within sight.

Just as they were about to enter the building, Zami’s attention was caught by a man standing off to the side, holding a bouquet of fresh roses. He looked a bit worn and tired, holding the flowers out to passing pedestrians who barely spared him a glance. Zami’s eyes lit up at the sight, and without warning, she darted away from her mother’s side and into the street.

"Zami!" Mira called, her heart leaping into her throat. She moved to follow, but froze when she noticed a car hurtling down the road, swerving out of control.

Time seemed to slow as Mira’s scream echoed through the bustling street.

"Zami!"