Vivi, standing nearby, gasped and looked up at Stanley with her big, round eyes full of innocence and disbelief. "Daddy is a liar? My mommy said liars will turn into monkeys at night!" she exclaimed, her small voice trembling with confusion and hurt.
Stanley couldn't help but wonder what kind of strange scenario was playing inside Neville's mind. Why was he so obsessed with the idea that Stanley had secretly married Natellie and that Vivi was somehow the result? Neville could be dense at times, yes, but this level of ridiculousness was truly something else. Stanley felt a prickling sensation on his scalp—unease creeping up as he noticed the different expressions on their faces. Neville's eyes burned with contempt, while little Vivi's were wide with shock and incredulity.
With an exasperated sigh, Stanley rolled his eyes and reached into his desk drawer. He pulled out a stack of papers—documents he had found in Vivi's bag just the day before. Without any ceremony or explanation, he tossed them over to Neville, then returned his gaze to his laptop screen as if nothing unusual had happened.
Neville blinked, surprised by the sudden gesture. "What's that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Stanley didn't bother looking up. "Why don't you check it yourself? I can still see you have functioning eyes and hands today," he said dryly, clearly annoyed by Neville's persistent questioning.
Neville sneered, his gaze flicking to the neatly stacked papers now resting on his lap. The room felt thick with tension as the unspoken truths hovered between them.
Before reaching for the scattered papers on the floor, Neville made sure to gently place the little girl onto the sofa. It was a small, unconscious act of care — automatic, almost fatherly. Then, his eyes caught the familiar curves of handwriting on the top sheet. His movements slowed. The moment he recognized it, something shifted in his expression. A flicker of emotion. Without a word, he sank onto the sofa beside the girl, eyes fixed on the letters as he began to read.
The room was quiet except for the rustling of paper. As Neville read, completely absorbed, Vivi slowly edged closer to him. There was something about this man — something that tugged at a thread deep inside her. She couldn't quite name it, but the feeling grew stronger the longer she sat near him. Her lips puckered in a tiny pout as she unzipped her bag, pulled out a photograph — the same one she had clutched so tightly just the day before — and studied it again.
Three men smiled up at her from the glossy surface. She stared hard at their faces, then turned to peek at the man sitting next to her. Back to the photo. Back to Neville. Her eyes darted between them, again and again, searching, comparing — trying to be absolutely sure.
But something didn't match. Confusion tugged at her tiny features.
The man beside her looked like one of her daddies. So very much like him. But there was a problem: his hair. In the photo, all three men had black hair. This man — her possible daddy number two — had orange hair.
Was it possible? Could someone really change their hair color just like that?
Her mommy had never told her that one of her daddies was a fairy. But Vivi had seen an animated show once — fairies could change how they looked. Maybe that's what this was. Maybe one of her daddies was secretly a fairy who could make his hair orange whenever he wanted.
Neville's face was unreadable now. The letter lay open in his hands, the words heavy in his mind. A swirl of emotions rose within him. The past came rushing back — vivid, sharp. He and Natellie had once been inseparable. They understood each other in ways no one else could. Mischief-makers, partners in crime, kindred spirits. But then she was gone. Just like that. No explanation, no goodbye. And he had assumed the worst — that she had turned her back on him. So, he moved on.
Or tried to.
He exhaled deeply, the sound filled with something like grief — or regret — or maybe both. Then, something caught his attention. He turned his head.
And froze.
Vivi's face was just inches from his own, her eyes wide and curious. For a split second, his heart stalled — a jolt of surprise coursing through him. Acting on instinct, not thought, Neville pushed her away.
It happened so fast.
Vivi tumbled back onto the sofa without a sound. Her small head popped up, her eyes even wider now — filled with shock. She didn't cry, didn't speak. She simply looked at him, bewildered.
Her second daddy had pushed her. For no reason. He just… pushed her.
And in that silent moment, something between them hung suspended — fragile, uncertain, waiting to be understood.
"Bad fairy daddy," Vivi said, her voice soft but filled with a child's wounded pride. She looked at Neville with aggrieved, accusing eyes, her small mouth forming a pout. "You pushed Vivi away."
Neville blinked. The panic that had momentarily taken hold of him began to fade, and he quickly gathered himself. He stared at the little girl—really looked at her now—and something twisted in his chest. Her face… it was far too familiar. That nose, the shape of her eyes, the way her cheeks puffed when she pouted. It was like looking at a miniature version of Natellie.
He gave her an unreadable gaze, not quite sure what to make of her, or the strange situation unfolding before him. Did Natellie… actually tell her daughter that they—he and the others—were her fathers? Neville had always known Natellie wasn't exactly what you'd call ordinary, but this? This was a different level entirely.
"Fairy daddy?" he repeated, his brows slightly raised. "Do I look like a fairy to you?"
Vivi nodded, lips still pursed, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. "…You have orange hair," she replied with a firm tone, like that explained everything.
Neville sighed. He preferred to call it "sunset hair," if he had to call it anything at all. But this girl—this tiny five-year-old bundle of strange logic and unwavering confidence—probably only knew the basics when it came to colors. Fine. He decided to let it go, at least for now. There were more important things to sort out than semantics.