Chapter 46
Alexander
Her apartment was still. Too still. I knew she was inside. I could feel her in the walls, in the breathless quiet, in the ghosts she always tried to outrun. I pushed open the bedroom door and froze.
She was on the floor. Wrapped in that ridiculous oversized fluffy blanket she loved, curled on the worn-out carpet like it was the safest place left in her crumbling world. Her cheek pressed to her arm. Her breathing soft and uneven, like she had cried herself to sleep.
My throat tightened around something I didn't know how to name. Then—I saw it. A small white envelope tucked under the edge of her blanket, corner peeking out like it wanted to be found.
I should’ve left it alone. But I didn’t. I picked it up, slid my thumb under the flap, and three ultrasound printouts fell into my hand.
Not one baby. Two. Twin sacs. Twin heartbeats. Clear labels in black hospital ink: Baby A. Baby B.
My vision tunneled. The room tilted. The air thinned to something sharp and unbreathable.
I dropped to my knees so fast the floor rattled.
Four weeks, two days. The exact weekend she snuck out of my bed afterward—blushing, boneless, trembling, still swollen with the imprint of my hands and teeth and hunger.
The kind of night that changes the chemistry of a person.
My pulse hit like a fist to the ribs. They were mine. They were ours. Two of them. My grip tightened around the photos until they nearly bent. She was carrying my children, and she hadn’t told me.
Why?
Because she didn’t trust me? Because she thought I wouldn’t stay? Because I’d let too much pain near her? Because she was terrified I’d look her in the eye and tell her she had imagined the life we were already building in silence?
I looked at her. Hair tangled. Cheeks stained. Fingers trembling even in sleep. My Evelyn, trying to navigate the end of the world alone. “Jesus, Evelyn…” My voice cracked open. “What the fuck are you doing to me?”
I stayed on the floor. Back against her dresser. Heart in my throat.
Ultrasound prints digging into my palm until they hurt—good. Real. Anchor-sharp. Two of them. Two-second heartbeats that didn’t exist four weeks ago. Two souls that had chosen her—chosen us—before she could even bring herself to believe in miracles again.
She stirred. Her lashes fluttered. She blinked herself awake, confusion fogging her features… until her gaze landed on the photos in my hand. She sat up fast, blanket clutched to her chest like a shield. “Alexander…” Her voice was a fracture.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
No anger. No shouting. Just a hollow truth.
She swallowed hard. “I—I didn’t know how.”
“You knew nine weeks ago.”
“Not exactly—”
“Don’t lie to me, Evelyn.”
That broke her. Her face crumpled. Her hand covered her mouth as a sob escaped her throat.
Her shoulders curled in like she was trying to make herself small enough to disappear.
“I was told I couldn’t have children,” she whispered.
“I was told—after everything that happened—that I wasn’t going to get this. Ever.”
I reached for her. Pulled her into my lap before she could hide from me again.
She collapsed against me, fists curling tight around my shirt, shaking so hard I thought she’d shatter.
“I didn’t want to believe it,” she whispered into my chest. “And then I was afraid… afraid that if I told you, you’d run.
Or worse, you’d stay because you thought you had to. ”
I cupped the back of her head. Pressed my forehead to her temple. “You think this is just duty?” I breathed. “Evelyn—they’re mine. They’re ours. There is no universe where I let you do this alone.”
She hiccupped, fingers tightening on my shirt like she was holding on for life. I lifted her chin gently, forced her to look at me. “You should’ve told me. But I get it now.” Her breath trembled against my lips.
“So… what now?” she whispered, terrified.
I brushed my thumb along her jaw, slow and reverent. “Now?”
I exhaled like something inside me finally snapped free. “Now I stay. I love you. I will raise our children with you. And I swear to you—” My forehead pressed to hers, breath mingling. “—no one will ever hurt you again. Not while I’m breathing.”
Her tears slid onto my thumb. Mine slid into her hair. She’s nothing short of a miracle.