Chapter 8 – A Mother’s Warmth

"Mama… my tummy is making noises again." Jeremy's soft voice broke the calm inside the hotel suite.

Amelia looked up from her laptop, her fingers pausing over the keyboard. Janet was already lying on the plush carpet near the window, rubbing her stomach in silent agreement. Her big brown eyes locked with Amelia's, pleading without a word.

Amelia let out a small chuckle, warmth blooming in her chest. "You two are impossible," she murmured lovingly, shutting her laptop. "Alright. Get your shoes. Let's go downstairs and see what the hotel has for dinner."

Jeremy was on his feet in an instant, already trying to help his little sister into her sneakers. Janet, ever the quiet one, leaned into him and whispered something that made them both giggle.

Watching them, Amelia's heart filled with a kind of peace that had become rare over the years. Her children were her world—her second chance at life. They weren't just ordinary kids. At five years old, Jeremy could solve puzzles in seconds that would challenge a teenager. And Janet… her drawings captured emotion with the precision of a trained artist. Genius wasn't a label Amelia used lightly, but when she looked at them, she saw more than just talent—she saw purpose.

As they rode the elevator down, Jeremy clutched her hand while Janet hummed softly, her voice like a little melody. The ding of the elevator announced their arrival at the lobby restaurant, a cozy but elegant space nestled in the corner of the hotel's ground floor.

"Table for three?" the hostess asked, smiling politely.

"Yes, please. Somewhere by the window, if possible," Amelia said with her usual soft-spoken grace. She had chosen to remain quiet, even invisible, for now. No one here knew her name—at least, not the one that made headlines.

They were seated quickly, and menus were handed out. The kids eagerly scanned the colorful pages of the children's section, while Amelia took in the gentle hum of evening diners around them.

"Mama," Janet asked, peering over her menu, "Can I have the spaghetti with the tiny meatballs?"

"Yes, sweetheart. And you, Jeremy?"

"I want the steak. Medium rare." He looked up innocently. The waiter blinked in surprise, and Amelia had to cover her laugh with a cough.

"Let's get him the kid's burger with sweet potato fries instead," Amelia said, giving Jeremy a wink.

"Ugh, fine. But only if I get chocolate cake afterward."

"You're negotiating with your mother?"

"I learned from the best," Jeremy grinned.

The food came quickly, and the table filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, sizzling fries, and rich tomato sauce. Janet picked up her fork and twirled her spaghetti slowly, careful not to make a mess. Jeremy, on the other hand, devoured his burger with gusto, pausing only to sip his juice through a bendy straw.

Amelia ate more slowly, savoring the moment rather than the food. She let her eyes drift over the faces of her children. No one here knew who she was. No cameras, no prying questions. Just this. Just them.

"You two know how proud I am of you, right?" she asked suddenly.

Jeremy paused mid-chew. "Because we behave in restaurants?"

"No," Amelia chuckled. "Because you're kind, and brilliant, and the best part of my life."

Janet reached across the table and placed her tiny hand over Amelia's. "And you're the best part of ours."

The words hit Amelia in a place deeper than her heart. She blinked, swallowing a lump in her throat. For all the losses she had endured, all the pain she had hidden behind a new name and silent strength, she had gained these two lights—her greatest masterpieces.

After dinner, they stayed seated, letting their food settle. Janet rested her head against Amelia's arm, yawning softly, while Jeremy sketched something onto the paper napkin with a pen from his pocket.

Amelia glanced over and saw a complex blueprint forming on the napkin—something resembling an intricate mechanical puzzle. Her lips parted in amazement. It was a prototype she had once abandoned long ago, something buried in a different identity. And yet here it was, coming alive through her son's tiny fingers.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked gently.

"I saw it in a dream," he said, nonchalantly. "But I added some cool stuff. Like hydraulics."

She didn't press further. There was time for that later. For now, she just sat with them, bathed in soft light and peace, letting the hotel restaurant become their haven for one more quiet evening.

The world didn't need to know who she was. Not yet.

Tonight, she was just Mama.