The Devil's Honey

FORTY

FORTY
🍯Honey🍯

A week later, Xavier moved us into a brand-new home. It's slightly smaller than the other one but just as extravagant in the way it looks. Floor-to-ceiling windows, gold practically everywhere you look, and a massive garden which Ayla loves to play in with Summer. And the best part about it is that Rocky and Gianna doesn't live too far either.

I walk past Ayla's bedroom catching a sniffle along the way, and my feet freeze. Knocking on the door, I gently say her name, panic filling my mind as to why she could be crying. Ayla very rarely cries. She is very good at hiding her emotions and that worries me. Her life on the streets at such a young age has taught her to grow up a lot faster.

"Ayla, baby?" I open the door to see her sitting on her bed, her back against the wall, angrily scowling at a book on her lap. I recognise the book from Summer who gave it to Ayla after she finished it. Angry tears stream down my little girl's face. "What's up, baby?"

She sniffles again but doesn't say a word. My hand brushes down her curly hair, which is getting longer by the day, almost at the middle of her back.

"Talk to me, Ayla. Please." I plead with her, grabbing a tissue and wiping the tears away.

"I-I can't read!" She exclaims and my eyes widen at her outburst. "N-No. I can read, b-but my head hurt, and I-I can't concencrate."

"Concentrate." I correct her and she nods her head rapidly. "Baby, you're only six. Don't put too much pressure on yourself."

"But Summer reads fine and really quickly too!" She cries. "I try but then I want to do something else, s-so I do something else like play with my dolls a-and then I don't want to anymore." My brows furrow and I take a good look at my frustrated daughter.

When I compare Ayla to Summer, I notice the differences between the two. I thought at first that Summer being quieter than Ayla just made it seem that Ayla was much more extroverted. But seeing her in this state, and what she's just told me has me thinking differently. Ayla is a hyperactive child. She talks about anything and everything. She does tend to get distracted easily, especially when I give her instructions and she blurts out words before she speaks most of the time.

She's struggling to read a book even though she wants to do it because her mind is screaming at her to do something else.

"Good girl for telling me how you feel, Ayla." She smiles at my praise as I stroke her hair. "Baby, I think we need to see a doctor."

She gasps. "Am I dying?"

My head shakes. "No, baby. Sometimes our minds work differently from others, and that doesn't make us less of a person, it just means that we need to find out why we're having these feelings that's all. If you tell the doctor what you told me, they'll be able to help you." I explain to her, and she relaxes.

"Okay, Mama. Can I go and see Summer?" She suddenly jumps off of the bed, bouncing on the tips of her toes.

"You don't want to finish your book? I can stay with you if you want?" I hold the book up.

"No." She's already running off before I can say another word.

Later that evening, I lay in bed thinking about what Ayla told me earlier on.

"What's wrong, little star?" Xavier asks me, climbing into bed and pulling me close to his body. I relax against his warmth and smile.

"I think Ayla has ADHD." Xavier freezes and I turn my body, so we're face to face. "I spoke with her earlier. She was crying because she couldn't concentrate when reading a book and I feel terrible for not noticing her struggles." I whimper, sitting up against the headboard.