Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever-Chapter 66 - You surprised me today

Joyce barely heard her, Seraphine’s vision narrowed until everything around them blurred into sound without shape, the chatter of parents, the shuffle of chairs, Leon’s distant laughter with another child. None of it felt real anymore.

She knew that mark. It was the same as the birthmark on her stomach, hidden at a place where no one could see it, but Joyce had it on her arm.

Her knees weakened, but she forced herself to kneel slowly, carefully, afraid that any sudden movement might shatter whatever fragile reality this was.

"Joyce," she repeated, her voice barely steady, the name catching in her throat like it had weight. Her fingers hovered just short of touching the girl’s arm, as though she feared that contact would either confirm everything or destroy her completely. "That’s... that’s a beautiful name."

Her pulse roared in her ears, and she studied the child’s face now with terrifying intensity, searching for pieces of herself, for fragments of memory in the curve of her nose, the shape of her lips, the faint arch of her brows.

The girl’s eyes were bright, curious, unaware of the earthquake happening inside the woman kneeling in front of her.

"I can write my J properly now," Joyce said, pointing proudly at the first letter on the page. "It used to look funny."

Seraphine swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill without permission. Her hand finally moved, brushing lightly against the edge of the brace as if by accident, just enough to see the birthmark clearly, just enough to confirm that her memory had not betrayed her.

It was identical. Same curve. Same shade. Same placement. Her chest tightened painfully. Could this be coincidence? How many crescent-shaped marks existed in the world? Was she projecting desperation onto a child simply because she wanted something, anything, to be hers again?

"Where are your parents, Joyce?" she asked again as she looked around, before returning her gaze to her, forcing her voice into something calm, something professional, even though her insides felt like they were unraveling thread by thread.

Joyce pointed toward a woman across the other groups, seated slightly apart on a bench from the others, engaged on her phone. "Mama’s there."

Seraphine followed the direction of her finger, her heart still racing wildly, her thoughts spiraling between hope and terror. If this was her child, then everything would change faster than she expected it. If it was not, then she would have to gather herself and survive another quiet disappointment without letting it show.

Behind her, she felt Leon’s presence draw closer, unaware of the storm brewing beneath her composed exterior.

"You’ve spent longer with Joyce," he noticed, and when he saw Seraphine’s gaze on Joyce’s arm, he chuckled. "You like that sticker too?"

"Sticker?" Seraphine’s voice was almost a whisper as Leon squatted beside her and peeled the sticker. "See?"

Something died inside Seraphine instantly, her gaze hazy as Leon asked, "do you want me to get you one? They come in different shapes, sizes and colors."

Seraphine forced a smile, rising to her feet, and genuinely disappointed. "That’s beautiful progress, Joyce," she said, studying the effort behind each stroke of the girl’s writing.

She turned to the girl’s mother who had now joined them and suggested small finger-strengthening games, playful activities that could build dexterity without making it feel like work. She listened intently, nodding with quiet appreciation.

Then there was Malik, bright-eyed and observant despite the oxygen tube resting gently against his nose. His parents hovered protectively, concern etched into every line of their faces.

Seraphine crouched low again, bringing herself into his line of sight. She spoke softly, explaining to his parents how gradual breathing exercises could help increase his endurance without overwhelming him. "Small improvements matter," she assured them. "Consistency will build strength more safely than pushing too hard."

As she moved from child to child, offering encouragement, practical advice, and warmth, something inside her loosened. Tears pricked unexpectedly at the corners of her eyes, not from sadness alone but from a swell of emotion she had not anticipated.

Joyce was not hers like she imagined but her time with the kids relieved her of the pain of her lost child. Hope lived here. She had not expected to feel so alive in a place built around recovery, yet it filled her chest until it felt almost too full to contain.

From a short distance away, Leon watched her with his arms folded loosely across his chest. The usual playboy confidence had quieted, replaced by something deeper, something thoughtful.

"It’s lunchtime," he said eventually, stepping closer. "Do you mind if we share lunch with them?"

Seraphine agreed without hesitation, still a little amazed by how down-to-earth he truly was beneath the surface image she had first judged him by.

The large hall filled gradually with parents and children, trays balanced carefully, chairs adjusted for comfort.

Seraphine found herself helping spoon-feed one child while asking another about school, listening to stories of accidents, illnesses, setbacks, and slow victories.

She asked subtle questions about backgrounds, origins, adoption statuses, not in a way that raised suspicion but in a way that quietly fed her own desperate search.

None of them were adopted. Each child belonged to the parents hovering nearby.

Her daughter was not here.

By the time they stepped back outside, the afternoon sun stretched long shadows across the grass, bathing the park in golden light that felt almost sacred. Something in Seraphine had changed.

Leon was no longer just the charming medical director with effortless smiles and a slightly dangerous ease.

Rather, he was someone who carried responsibility quietly, who showed up for children who were not his own, who understood that connection was built in shared humanity rather than curated luxury.

She turned to him as they walked toward the car, the breeze lifting a few strands of her hair. "You surprised me today."

Leon smirked lightly, though there was vulnerability in his eyes he could not completely mask. "Good surprise?"

She nodded, her smile warm and sincere. "The best kind. Thank you, Leon. And I accept your offer, but I can only start after a week. I need to finalize some business proposals first."

Warmth spread through Leon’s chest at her acceptance, more satisfying than any flattery he had received in years. "What kind of business are you looking at?" he asked, genuinely curious now.

He expected something predictable, something elegant and traditionally feminine, maybe fashion, jewelry, a boutique, perhaps even a restaurant venture.

What she said next made him realize he did not know her at all.