The Truths Behind the Life of Maeve Sun Lively

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IT WASN'T A SURPRISE WHEN news about my adopted daughter spread throughout the world. Well, sooner or later it was going to happen. So before it blew out of hand, Mason and I leaked the information to the press in the way we wanted it to go.

"Widower Maeve Sun Lively, at the age of 49, adopts a baby in New York."

"What will this baby, Rosalie, become?"

"Will she follow her mothers successful path, or something different?"

Along with the news, some cute pictures of her was also out for everyone. It had already been three months, with Rosalie growing quickly and becoming chubbier. Her red hair was grown almost to the length of one inch, and her hazel eyes has began to open up more, as if taking a better understanding of the world.

I wondered as I watched her blinked and looked around, sometimes looking at me, and sometimes just anywhere when I can't hold her attention long enough. What kind of person would she grow into?

What kind of world is it that she will see?

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It was hard at first. Without saying, Mason and I were both not the most stable people on the planet. So how in the world were we going to raise a baby? How were we going to care for it if we ourselves were so emotionally unavailable?

The doubts never really leave, and yet I wondered how I did it so well in the beginning. Perhaps it was because I wasn't alone.

Rosalie was a smart baby. I am not saying that just because, but she was actually intelligent to a level that was surprising.

It began with the moment she could talk at only nine months old. Not words like googoogaga or like barely mumbled words of mommy or daddy. She could respond back to things people said to her as if she understood. Due to her lack of teeth, the words were still unclear. But you knew that she understood the words and was trying to respond back in more words she knew. The frustration that grew on her face when her lack of teeth became a barrier to her clear words was always so entertaining to watch.

Mason and I decided to find her a tutor the moment she turned one years old. It took her only a day to understand all of the alphabets and how they worked and functioned.

After the tutor, Mason and I debated on whether or not Rosalie should go to school normally like everyone else.

Time flies by in seasons. Orange autumns, delicate winters, refreshing springs, and the joy of summers. Mason and I have stable careers, but money and work has never really been a problem. I had been drinking less ever since Rosalie became my responsibility. Mason every once in a while stays up late to look at pictures of Cameron. One day, Rosalie, who was then already four and could talk almost like a six year old, spotted Mason doing so.

I had tried to get her to go back to bed after she woke up to go pee. But with her curiosity at the time, once she spotted Mason, she would not go back to sleep.

"Why is Uncle Mason staying up so late?" She whispered in her soft voice.

I take her tiny hand, tying to get her to leave. "Let's not bother him, alright?"

And before I knew it, she ripped herself out of my grip, sprinting at full speed towards Mason.

His back was crouched, with a drink next to him as he traced the picture of Cameron. Cameron's pictures has always hung around our house, and now Rosalie has began to notice this stranger's face.

"Who is that?" She asked, pointing at Cameron's smiling face. I feel something ache inside me.

Mason, surprised by her sudden presence, gives a sad smile. "He is someone very important to me."