Chapter 1 : The whispers of a the sound child

The sun was dipping low over the De Anya compound, casting long shadows between the neatly lined houses. On the porch of the main house, Mary Eliza De Anya sat with her chin in her hand, watching her father, Mikael, laugh as he walked with Nico.

The news had hit the family like a shockwave: Nico was pregnant with their second child. While the adults were celebrating, the outside world—and some of the more gossiping relatives—had already started their chatter. “The firstborn is always the trial run,” she’d overheard an aunt whisper. “Once the second comes, Mary will just be another face in the gallery.”

A shadow fell over her. She didn’t have to look up to know it was Mateo. He smelled like the wind and the engine oil from the bike he’d been tinkering with at Yuki’s place next door.

"You’re doing that thing with your eyebrows again," Mateo said, hopping over the railing to sit beside her. "The one where you try to think yourself out of existence."

Mary Eliza sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. "They’re already talking, Mateo. Like I’m a placeholder until the 'real' heir shows up."

Mateo snorted, nudging her. "Let them talk. You’re a De Anya, and you’re my best friend. If they try to forget you, I’ll just make enough noise for the both of us."

The sound of Mateo’s voice was the only thing that could cut through the fog in Mary Eliza's head. He didn’t just say things to be nice; he said them because he meant them. That was the Yuki in him—blunt, honest, and fiercely loyal.

"You’re lucky," Mary Eliza murmured, watching a stray cat dart between her father’s house and Yuki’s. "At your house, you're the one and only. You don't have to worry about a 'New and Improved' version of yourself arriving in nine months."

Mateo leaned back on his elbows, looking up at the darkening sky. "Maybe. But I also don't have a Mikael and a Nico for parents. My dad is great, but your house? It’s like a constant soap opera of affection. A second kid just means there's more love to go around, Mary. It doesn't mean your share gets smaller."

"Tell that to Aunt Estella," Mary Eliza retorted, her voice dropping to a mimic of the older woman’s sharp tone. "Oh, Mary Eliza is so sweet, but wait until the boy arrives. A son for the De Anya name! That’s when the real legacy starts."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut. "I’m a De Anya too. My name is on the mailbox just like theirs."

"And your name is the one I'm going to scream from the roof if they try to skip you at dinner," Mateo joked, though his eyes stayed serious. He reached out, bumping his shoulder against hers. "Look at them."

Across the lawn, Nico had stopped walking. He was leaning against Mikael, his hand resting almost subconsciously on his stomach. Mikael was looking at him with an expression of such pure, unadulterated joy that it made Mary’s heart ache. It wasn't that she was unhappy about the baby—she loved her family—she was just terrified of becoming a ghost in her own hallway.

"They're happy," Mary admitted softly.

"They are," Mateo agreed. "But they’re happy because of you, too. Don't let the neighbors’ gossip turn your home into a prison. Come on. My dad’s firing up the grill. If we get there first, we can steal the best steaks before the 'grown-ups' realize we're gone."

Mary Eliza finally cracked a smile, the weight on her chest lifting just a fraction. Mateo always knew that the best cure for an existential crisis was a bit of rebellion and a lot of protein.

As they jumped off the porch and headed toward Yuki’s house, Mary Eliza caught her father’s eye. Mikael waved, a bright, beaming gesture that she tried to return with equal energy. She wanted to believe Mateo. She wanted to believe that a second child was an addition, not a replacement.

But as the front door of the main house opened and more relatives poured in with blue and pink balloons, the whispers seemed to grow louder than the laughter.

Family dinner

The grill was sizzling, and the sun had finally tucked itself behind the horizon, leaving the De Anya-Le Fang compound glowing under string lights. Yuki wiped a smudge of charcoal off her forehead, looking every bit the matriarch of her own domain. She handed a platter of steaks to Mateo, who began weaving through the outdoor tables like he was born for the chaos.

"Alright, everyone sit!" Yuki commanded with a grin. "Before Mikael tries to 'help' and accidentally organizes my spice rubs by alphabetical order."

Mikael laughed, pulling out a chair for Nico. "I wouldn't dream of it, Yuki. I'm too busy making sure the guest of honor is comfortable." He settled Nico into his seat with a level of tenderness that usually made Mary Eliza smile, but today, it felt like a spotlight she wasn't standing in.

As the family gathered—uncles, cousins, and the inner circle—the conversation inevitably drifted.

"So," Aunt Estella said, leaning across the table toward Nico. "We’ve heard the rumors. The De Anya name needs a strong heir to carry the weight. Have the doctors given you a hint yet? Is it the boy we’ve all been waiting for?"

The table went quiet for a heartbeat. Mary Eliza felt Mateo’s foot nudge hers under the table—a silent I’m here.

Nico smiled, his hand instinctively resting on his stomach. "We just want a healthy baby, Estella. Boy or girl, they’ll be a De Anya. That’s enough."

"Of course, of course," Estella waved a hand dismissively. "But Mary Eliza is so... delicate. A son would really solidify the estate's future. It would change everything for the family legacy."

Mary Eliza felt the steak in her mouth turn to cardboard. She looked at her plate, her vision blurring slightly. She wasn't "delicate." She was the one who helped Mateo fix his bike. She was the one who knew the family history by heart.

"Actually," Yuki interrupted, her voice cutting through the chatter like a blade. She leaned against the grill, tongs still in hand, eyeing Estella. "The 'legacy' is doing just fine. Mary Eliza has more fire in her pinky finger than most of the 'heirs' I’ve met. If anyone thinks a new baby makes her 'yesterday’s news,' they clearly haven't been paying attention to whose house they're eating in."

Mikael reached over, grabbing Mary Eliza’s hand and squeezing it tight. "Your aunt is just old-fashioned, Mary. You’re our first, our heart. Nothing changes that."

Mary Eliza nodded, trying to force a smile, but the "whisper" was still there. It was in the way the other relatives started debating baby names, and the way the conversation moved on to the future—a future that suddenly felt very crowded.

Mateo leaned in close to her ear. "Hey," he whispered. "Eat your steak. Tomorrow, we’re going to the old lookout point. Just us. No babies, no 'heirs,' no Estella. Just the originals."

Mary Eliza looked at her cousin—her best friend, her brother in every way that mattered—and felt a spark of the "happier" relation they had promised to keep.

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