“Whose children are these?” the man who—once upon a time—was the one I loved more than life asks me, looking into my eyes.
“Mine…” I whisper.
“Our…” I correct myself, holding the little ones closer. They stick out curious faces, staring at the unfamiliar uncle with eyes wide open.
“How old are they?!”
“Three…” I bite my tongue, realizing that I’ve just signed my own death sentence.
“Take off that outfit.” He nods toward the wedding dress that suffocates me and, as if under his gaze, burns my skin.
“You’ll tell your fiancé ‘no’ right now.”
“What?… What are you saying? Why did you come here at all?! Everything is over between us—three years ago! Now you’re just my boss and nothing more!”
“Doesn’t feel that way to me…” answers my “just boss” and, with expressive focus, looks at the twins I kept secret from him three years ago.