Sylvia’s POV
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"Mommy, look at that kid... I think he’s lost..." Egypt said, tugging lightly at my hand.
I followed her gaze and saw a young boy standing not too far from where we were walking.
We were on our way ho from the girls’ school, taking the usual route when Egypt stopped, her eyes fixed on sothing—or rather, soone.
And just as she said, the boy really did look lost. He was standing there, frozen, eyes darting nervously around him. There was fear written all over his face.
From his neat clothes and clean appearance, it was obvious he wasn’t from around our neighborhood. He looked like he ca from a wealthy family.
He was trembling, obviously unsure of what to do or where to go. My heart tugged in concern, so I slowly approached him, careful not to alarm him.
But the mont I reached out and gently touched his shoulder—
"Ackk! Don’t touch !!!"
He scread and imdiately pulled away, eyes wide in panic before he turned and bolted down the street.
"Kid—w-wait! I didn’t an to scare you!" I called after him, but he didn’t stop running.
He looked absolutely terrified.
"Paris! Egypt! Where are you two going?! Co back here!" I shouted as soon as I saw the girls take off after him.
The boy glanced back for a mont, but when he saw the twins chasing after him too, he panicked even more and picked up his pace, running faster.
"Kid! Wait, don’t run!" I called out again, breaking into a run myself.
These kids, really... I sighed, catching my breath as I tried to keep up with them.
The boy turned into one of the narrow alleyways that led straight to our house. Because of that, the girls were able to corner him quickly.
By the ti I caught up, I saw the boy standing there, obviously terrified, his back against the wall, eyes locked on the twins in fear.
"Don’t touch ! You’re dirty!" the boy shouted.
The twins stopped in their tracks with matching confused frowns.
"H-hey kid! Who are you calling dirty?" Egypt asked, before sniffing herself.
"I took a bath, so I’m not dirty." Egypt said with a pout.
The boy hesitated for a mont, eyes flicking between the girls before he blurted out. "Th-then... you’re u-ugly..."
Egypt’s eyes widened in disbelief.
"W-what did you say? Did you just call ugly?!"
She marched toward him, leaning her face in close, forcing the boy to look at her directly.
"Look! Look at my face! Does this look ugly to you?!"
The boy’s cheeks flushed, and he quickly turned his head away.
"G-get your face o-off ... your breath is s-stinky..." he mumbled, his ears turning red.
Egypt gasped, horrified. She imdiately blew into her own hand to check her breath, then spun around and breathed right into Paris’s face.
"Hey, Paris! Does my breath sll bad? It doesn’t, right?! Right?!"
Paris flinched and took a step back. She glanced at the boy, then subtly covered her nose with her hand.
"It doesn’t sll that bad... Don’t believe him. He’s probably just lying." she muttered.
"What?! W-why would I lie if it’s true?!" the boy protested, frowning.
I let out a long sigh and finally stepped in, walking toward them.
"Egypt, sweetie, you can’t do that. You’re making him uncomfortable." I said gently.
The boy averted his gaze again the mont he noticed watching him.
"By the way, kid," I said gently, "it seems like you’re not from around here, am I right?"
The boy didn’t respond. Instead, he instinctively took a step back, as if preparing to run again.
What’s going on with him?
"Look, we don’t have any bad intentions toward you, okay? We just want to help. You looked lost, and we were worried." I continued, keeping my voice as calm as I could.
"Can you tell how you ended up in a place like this?"
But instead of answering, he averted his eyes. Just like earlier, he was about to bolt—but before he could, Egypt and Paris moved fast and cornered him, cutting off his escape route.
"W-what are you g-going to do to ...?" he stamred, fear creeping into his voice. "I’ll tell my father if you lay a hand on , you lowly people!"
My eyes widened at his words. Egypt blinked in confusion, while Paris let out an exasperated sigh—before smacking the boy on the back of the head.
"Paris!"
I gasped, quickly stepping in and shielding the boy behind . He clung tightly to the hem of my shirt, visibly shaken.
"N-no, sweetheart, you can’t hit a friend!"
"He’s not my friend, Mom. I don’t even know him," Paris replied coldly, glaring at the boy. "And he was being rude—to you. That’s why I had to teach him how to respect people."
I closed my eyes for a mont and let out a tired sigh. This child...
"But Paris," I said patiently, turning to face her, "look at him. He’s probably scared and doesn’t even know how to get back ho. Instead of ’teaching him a lesson,’ wouldn’t it be better if we helped him?"
Paris hesitated, then sighed in defeat. She gave the boy one last warning look.
"Yes, Mom. I understand."
The boy looked down and quickly averted his gaze. I felt him tremble slightly behind .
My heart softened.
Whatever brought him here, he didn’t deserve to feel cornered and attacked—especially not by kids his age.
I stared intently at the little boy. Judging from the redness around his eyes and the dried streaks on his cheeks, it was obvious he had just been crying. My heart sank at the sight—I couldn’t help but feel pity for him.
"Kid," I said gently, crouching down a little and soften my tone. "these two sweet kids right here are my lovely twin daughters."
I placed a hand on each of their shoulders and offered him a small, reassuring smile.
"They’re not bad or scary. They just genuinely want to help you—because it looks like you really need it."
"If you’re scared, that’s okay. But maybe... you could tell us your na? Or your parents’ nas? Where you live? That way, we can figure out how to help you better."
But instead of answering, the boy lowered his head even more. His small shoulders slumped, and the look on his face only grew more troubled.
"I-I don’t w-want to go h-ho..." he muttered under his breath, so quietly it was almost a whisper—but we still heard him clearly.
I knelt down slowly to et him at eye level, gently searching his expression as I looked into his eyes.
"Okay, kid... why don’t you want to go ho? Did soone hurt you? Or... maybe your parents just scolded you?" I asked softly.
His eyes began to glisten again, and he looked even sadder as he gave a tiny shake of his head.
"M-my parents are g-getting a divorce soon..." he murmured, his voice trembling. "So please... don’t make go back. They’ll probably just fight again... and I don’t want to see that anymore..."
His words hit hard.
I didn’t want to judge his family situation—I had no idea what was really happening in their ho. But to see a child run away just to escape the problems of his own family... it broke my heart.
"O-okay... okay, I’m not going to force you to go back ho," I said softly, keeping my tone calm and steady. "But can you at least tell your na? I promise I’m not a bad person, okay?"
I offered him a warm, comforting smile. "My na is Sylvia Lincolm... and these are my twin daughters, Paris and Egypt Lincolm."
I noticed him pause for a mont, his eyes lingering quietly on Paris and Egypt. He seed to be studying them intently, almost as if sothing about them intrigued him.
"What’s wrong, kid?" Egypt broke the silence with a playful smirk. "Did you finally realize I’m not ugly?"
The boy blinked and looked away awkwardly. "N-nope," he muttered, avoiding her eyes. "I wasn’t staring at you because I think you’re not ugly or anything... It’s just... you look familiar."
Then he turned his head slightly to the side, almost embarrassed.
"And by the way," he added with a small frown. "I’m not a kid. My na is Gabriel Philip Hariston."
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