ADRIAN’S POVI’d been staring at the same line of numbers for over an hour, and they still refused to make sense.The screen blurred, my reflection ghosting faintly in the glass: pale, tired, a man who looked far older than his thirty-two years. The office around me was silent except for the faint hum of the air conditioning and the occasional thud of footsteps in the hallway.Another late night. Another endless stack of reports that couldn’t drown out the noise in my head.Selene’s words looped endlessly.I’m pregnant, Adrian. It’s yours.The sentence clung to my thoughts like smoke, suffocating, impossible to clear.I rubbed the bridge of my nose and leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes.Her words still pulsed through my skull like static. I had replayed our entire conversation over and over again.“I’m pregnant, Adrian. It’s yours.”The world went silent except for the thud of my heartbeat.I stepped back slowly, staring at her as if she’d just confessed to murder. “No. Stop it
ADRIAN’S POVThe night air bit against my skin as I stepped out of the building, jacket slung over my arm, tie hanging loose around my neck. The city glimmered beneath me, restless and alive—everything I wasn’t.My driver opened the car door, but I waved him off. “I’ll drive myself.”He hesitated, glancing at the empty whiskey glass I’d left on my desk earlier, then nodded silently. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation.The engine purred to life, and the city lights streaked by in ribbons of gold and white as I sped down the avenue. My reflection ghosted in the rearview mirror—hard eyes, unshaven jaw, the hollow look of a man who’d built everything and lost what mattered.Mrs. A.The name had been circling my head all day like a curse. The mysterious Sinclair representative. I’d spent hours convincing myself it was no one I knew—just a coincidence, another faceless business liaison. But deep down, I knew what name my mind wanted to attach to that initial.Ava.Every time I closed my
ADRIAN’S POVThe whiskey burned going down, but it didn’t do what I needed it to. It didn’t quiet the noise.The glass clicked softly against my desk as I set it down. The ice had melted hours ago, a faint amber ring bleeding into the mahogany. My office was dark, the only light spilling from the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows.The clock read 12:47 a.m.I should have gone home hours ago—but “home” had stopped feeling like one the day Ava walked out.Or the day I drove her to it.Instead, I sat here, surrounded by contracts and screens, pretending the ache in my chest was just fatigue. Pretending the image of her face wasn’t still carved behind my eyelids every time I closed them.Her voice still haunted the edges of my thoughts. Adrian… help me, please. I’d told myself it was a trick, another attempt to draw attention, to ruin my focus. I’d told myself I’d been right to hang up.All gone.And yet I couldn’t let her go.The memory hit like a fist to the ribs. I threw
AVA’S POVThe boys were more than excited to go to the mall.Their laughter bounced off the polished tiles as they darted from one shopfront to the next, tugging at my hands, pointing at every bright thing their curious eyes caught. For once, I let myself bask in their joy. Just a mother and her sons, out in the world.“Mommy, look!” Aiden pressed his nose against the glass of a display case. Rows of miniature race cars gleamed under the lights, shiny red, green, and silver. His eyes sparkled. “They’re so fast! Can we see inside?”Aaron, quieter as always, tugged on my blouse and pointed at the toy store across the atrium. “And dinosaurs,” he whispered reverently. “Big ones.”I chuckled, squeezing their hands. “Cars first, dinosaurs next. But only if you stay close.”“Promise!” Aiden puffed out his chest, as though he’d just signed a royal decree.Aaron nodded solemnly, mismatched eyes—one amber-brown, the other clear blue—glimmering in the light.We walked toward the car display, and
AVA’S POVThe Sinclair dining room hadn’t changed. Same polished mahogany table. Same golden chandelier overhead. Same warmth that clung to the air whenever my father was in good spirits.But what had changed—what shifted the air entirely—were the two little boys perched beside me, their giggles echoing off the high ceiling.“Grandpa, look!” Aiden balanced a pea on his fork with wobbly determination.My father, Charles Sinclair, gasped as if witnessing a miracle. “Incredible! A circus star in the making!” He winked and clapped, making Aiden beam.On my other side, Aaron tugged at my sleeve. “Mommy, look.”I turned, and my chest ached at the sight. Aaron’s eyes—one a clear amber brown, the other a striking shade of blue—gleamed as he held up a perfect half of his bread roll like a tiny offering. His twin had inherited Adrian’s golden-brown gaze, but Aaron… Aaron carried something rarer. A mark no one could mistake if they looked too closely.“Very good, sweetheart,” I whispered, kissin
AVA’S POVThree years later.Three years.That was how long it had been since I’d breathed this city’s air, since I’d seen its skyline stretching like jagged teeth against the horizon. Three years since I had left everything behind—my pain, my marriage, my shame—and poured all of myself into the only two lives that mattered now.“Mommy?”A small hand tugged at my sleeve. I looked down and met a pair of bright, curious eyes—the kind that mirrored Adrian’s so perfectly it hurt. My son, Aiden, tilted his head, his soft curls bouncing. “Are we there yet?”“Almost,” I whispered, smoothing his hair back. Beside him, his brother, Aaron, was fast asleep against my shoulder, his tiny breaths puffing against my neck. My heart softened. My boys. My miracle. The only reasons I’d been able to survive these past years.The plane began its descent, the captain’s voice a muffled echo over the speaker. I swallowed hard, clutching the boys closer as my chest tightened.Coming back was never part of the