Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins: Kabanata 491 - Kabanata 500

Mia's POV"It's an SUV.""An armored SUV.""Reinforced.""There's a difference?"He didn't answer. Just opened the back door and helped the children in one by one, Madison last, lifted into her car seat like she was made of something precious and breakable.I shook my head. "Kyle. You really don't do dramatic well. Just like you don't do jazz."Nothing. Not even a twitch.He slid into the driver's seat and started the engine—barely a whisper, because even the car knew its place around Kyle Branson.Then he tapped the screen.Baby Shark.I blinked.Baby Shark. In an armored vehicle. With bulletproof glass and military-grade engineering and probably a secret compartment for emergency caviar.I had no words for this aesthetic commitment. None.The children, however, had plenty.Tank plus favorite song—it was like they'd brewed their coffee with Red Bull and chased it with a shot of pure chaos. Alexander was already straining against his car seat straps, the only thing between him and ful

Mia's POVThe music started.It was an old song. Something from—I don't know. Another century. The kind of melody that lives in the collective unconscious, that everyone knows without knowing how they know it. Notes that your grandmother hummed, that her grandmother hummed before her. Music that existed before recording, before radio, before any of us were born. It simply was, the way sunlight was, the way rain was.The horses began to rise and fall in their gentle, eternal rhythm.Up. Down. Up. Down. Like breathing. Like the tide.The afternoon light slanted through the carousel's canopy, catching the gold leaf on the horses' bridles, the tiny mirrors embedded in the central column. Everything glittered. Everything spun. The world outside became a smear of color. It's green trees, blue sky, the bright dots of other visitors, all of it bleeding together into something impressionistic.I could smell it. That particular carousel smell. Machine oil and old wood and something sweeter unde

Mia's POVThe restaurant was warm and loud and smelled like French fries.Alexander had ketchup on his chin. On his shirt. Somehow on his forehead. Ethan was methodically finishing his chicken nuggets in a precise pattern—largest to smallest. Madison had eaten half a grilled cheese and declared herself "so full I might explode."They were tired. I could see it in the way Alexander's movements were slowing down, the way Ethan's blinks were getting longer. Madison was already leaning against my arm, her eyes half-closed."Time to go," I said.No protests. That's how I knew they were truly exhausted. Alexander didn't even argue.The walk to the parking lot was slow. Madison's arms were around my neck, her head on my shoulder, her body a warm, heavy weight against my chest. Eleanor was squished between us.Kyle had both boys. One on each arm. I don't know how he managed it—Alexander alone was a solid forty pounds of wrigg

Mia's POVI didn't sleep.I tried. For the first hour, I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling and told myself that sleep would come.It didn't.So I got up. Made tea. Let it go cold on the counter. Made another cup. Let that one go cold too. I cleaned the kitchen even though it was already clean. I folded laundry that didn't need folding. I sat on the couch with Gas's head in my lap, her pregnant belly rising and falling with each breath, and I watched the numbers on my phone change.3:47. 3:48. 3:49.It came anyway.The light crept through the curtains, gray at first, then that pale gold that means the day has started whether you're ready or not. I watched it happen. Watched the room transform from dark to light, shadow to color. My eyes were dry and scratchy from crying, the skin around them tight and swollen. I caught my reflection in the window glass and looked away.Gas lifted her head when I stood up, her dark eyes following me across the room. She'd been restless all night too,

Mia's POV"Daddy, wake up."Alexander's voice was small. Not the usual Alexander voice.He was standing on his tiptoes, his chin resting on the edge of the hospital bed, his fingers curled around the metal railing. The bed was too high for him. He'd dragged a chair over earlier, but he preferred standing. Said it made him feel closer."Mama says if you leave us like this again, she'll never forgive you."The ventilator hissed. A soft, rhythmic sound. In. Out. In. Out.I didn't correct him. I hadn't said those exact words. But I hadn't not said them either.The monitors beeped. Steady. Green lines moving across black screens in patterns. Heart rate: 62. Oxygen: 97. Blood pressure: 118/76. Numbers that meant alive. Numbers that didn't mean awake.Kyle's face was slack. That was the word the nurse had used. Slack."I learned a new word today," Alexander continued. He was tracing patterns on the blanket with his finger. Circles. Squares. A lopsided star. "Ethan taught me. It's called 'com