“Because my life is complicated now. Things have changed.”
“What things?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You keep saying that. Give me something real, Aurelia. One honest answer.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t be with you. That’s the truth.”
The line goes quiet for a moment.
Then he says, “I’ll see you soon.” And hangs up.
I stand there holding my phone, heart pounding, and wonder what the hell I’m going to do.
That evening, I find Nadia in the twins’ room reading them a story. She’s sitting on the floor between their beds, a picture book open on her lap. Finn is hanging over the side of his bed watching the illustrations while Liam lies on his back staring at the ceiling and listening.
“And the dragon said, ‘I’m not scary, I’m just misunderstood,’” Nadia reads in a dramatic voice.
“Dragons are scary,” Finn says.
“Not this one. This one just wanted friends.”
“I’d be his friend,” Liam says quietly.
“Me too,” Nadia agrees.
I lean against the doorframe and watch them. Nadia’s voice is warm and patient, and she keeps glancing between the boys like she’s checking to make sure they’re both engaged.
She’s a natural mother. It’s in every gesture, every smile, every gentle correction when Finn interrupts with questions. And she can’t have children of her own.
“Mam!” Finn spots me and waves. “Nadia is reading us the dragon book!”
“I can hear. It sounds very exciting.”
“Do you want to listen too?” Nadia asks.
“I don’t want to interrupt.”
“You’re not. Come sit.”
I join them on the floor, and Nadia continues reading. The boys settle in, Finn’s eyes drooping even though he’s fighting sleep, Liam already half-gone. By the time Nadia finishes the story, both boys are asleep.
We stand carefully and tiptoe out of the room.
“Thank you,” I say once we’re in the hallway. “For everything you do with them.”
“I love spending time with them. They’re wonderful boys.”
“They adore you.”
Her expression falters, then smooths over.
“About the miscarriages…” I say quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know. But I’m still sorry.”
