The thought sat heavily inside my chest all the way home.
By the time I entered the house, the twins were sprawled across the living room floor surrounded by books, pencils, and what looked suspiciously like dismantled markers. 1
“Why,” I asked slowly, “does it look like a tiny art war happened here?”
Eli looked up immediately.
“Creative process.”
Ava pointed at him without hesitation.
“He exploded the markers.”
“Allegedly.”
I dropped the bakery bags dramatically onto the table.
Instant silence.
Then:
“Wait.”
Ava narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“Is that milk cake?”
Eli gasped like a Victorian woman seeing daylight for the first time.
“Mother.”
I snorted.
“Please relax.”
The two of them practically launched toward the table.
And honestly, moments like that still healed something inside me every single time.
Children really were just tiny emotional terrorists with sugar addictions.
A few minutes later, we sat together eating while Eli passionately explained why cinnamon rolls were ” structurally superior pastries.”
I genuinely did not know what that meant.
Neither did Ava apparently because she looked equally confused.
Then finally, while they were distracted and relaxed enough, I cleared my throat carefully.
“So…”
Both heads lifted immediately.
Chest oche
+20 Bonus
Dangerous.
Children always sensed incoming conversations.
I tried to sound casual.


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave)