Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 29

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 29

Sleep had been elusive, leaving me tossing and turning in sheets that still held traces of Kyle’s cologne. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face in the moonlight, felt the ghost of his touch. Catherine’s potion had finally worn off, but the memories remained, sharp and clear in the endless night hours.

Dawn found me exhausted, dark circles beneath my eyes that even expensive concealer couldn’t quite hide. I pulled on a simple cream sweater and black pants, armor against whatever this day might bring.

The sound of clattering pans drew me to the kitchen. I stopped dead in the doorway, certain I must still be dreaming.

Kyle Branson – immaculate, perfectionist Kyle – stood at the stove surrounded by chaos. Eggshells littered the counter. A dusting of flour marked his otherwise pristine grey suit. Something that might have been an omelet sizzled ominously in the pan.

“What are you doing?” The words came out more bewildered than I intended.

He looked up, and for a moment I glimpsed uncertainty in those storm–grey eyes. “Making breakfast.”

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“You cook?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice.

“How hard can it be?” He turned back to the stove, frowning at the pan’s contents. “There are instructions. Steps to follow. Like any other process.”

“Cooking isn’t like running a board meeting, Kyle.”

Mrs. Chen hovered in the doorway, looking physically pained at the state of her usually pristine kitchen. “Sir, I could-”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Chen.” Kyle’s tone was firm. “I want to do this myself.”

I watched him struggle for a moment, torn between amusement and confusion. In three years of marriage, I’d never seen him attempt anything more complicated than making coffee.

“Here.” I moved beside him, reaching for the spatula. “Let me help before you destroy Mrs. Chen’s favorite pan.”

“No.” He gently but firmly reclaimed the utensil. “Please. Let me do this.”

The ‘please‘ caught me off guard. When had Kyle ever said please to me? Something shifted in the air between us, fragile and undefined.

Ten minutes later, we sat at the kitchen island with slightly overcooked eggs, unevenly toasted bread, and

coffee that at least Kyle could make perfectly.

We ate in strange silence, the morning sun painting patterns across the kitchen island.

“Mia.” His voice was careful, measured. He set down his coffee cup with precise movements. “Give me today.”

I looked up from my plate. “What?”

“One day. Let’s do something… normal. What couples do.”

The word ‘couples‘ hit like a physical blow. “We’re not a couple, Kyle. We’re a contract.”

“Then let’s celebrate your success with the Havers project.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, studying his coffee

instead. “As… friends.”

Friends. The word tasted bitter.

ง

“Fine,” I found myself saying. “One day.”

“Really?” He looked up.

“Don’t make me change my mind.” I stood, gathering our plates.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “I’ll have the car brought around.”

The luxury boutiques of Milan Square stretched before us, a glittering monument to excess. Usually, the artistry

captivated me – the way fabrics draped, the interplay of textures and colors, the attention to minute details.

Today, though, the displays felt hollow, meaningless.

“Miss!” A sales assistant materialized at my elbow, all perfect makeup and practiced charm. “We have this in

several colors. The cut would be perfect for your figure.”

“I’m not really-”

“She’ll try them all,” Kyle interrupted smoothly. “And the matching pieces from the new collection.”

“Excellent choice, Mr. Branson.” The assistant beamed. Of course they knew who he was. “I’ll set up a private fitting room right away.”

A burst of childish laughter cut through the refined atmosphere. A little girl, maybe five or

six, darted between

the clothing racks, her dark curls bouncing with each step. She spun in circles, making her pale pink dress twirl

around her like flower petals.

“Careful, sweetheart!” I called out automatically as she nearly collided with a display of cashmere sweaters. “You’ll knock something over.”

She stopped mid–spin, brown eyes wide and curious. “I’m practicing being a ballerina,” she announced

solemnly, executing another wobbly pirouette.

“Are you?” Something in my chest ached as I knelt to her level. “You’re doing a wonderful job. Very graceful.”

“I have a recital next week.” She demonstrated another spin, nearly taking out a rack of designer handbags. “My sister’s in it too. We’re twins! We get to do everything together.”

The word hit like a knife to the heart. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the memory of two tiny heartbeats on an ultrasound screen. Two precious lives that would never spin in pretty dresses or perform in

recitals.

“Mia?” Kyle’s voice seemed to come from far away,

underwater.

I stumbled to my feet, vision blurring with tears. “I need… I can’t…”

“Emma!” A woman’s voice called from across the store. “What did I tell you about bothering people? Come back

here with your sister!”

The little girl – Emma – skipped away to join her mirror image by their mother. Two perfect little girls, two sets

of bouncing curls, two matching pink dresses. Two chances at life that my babies never got.

The tears came then, hot and unstoppable. I turned blindly, needing to escape the perfect family tableau, but

Kyle’s hands caught my shoulders.

“Get the car,” he said quietly to the hovering sales assistant. “Now.”

The world passed in a blur as he guided me through the store, past curious onlookers and concerned staff. The leather seats of his Bentley enveloped me, the door closing with a solid thunk that shut out the world.

“They were twins too,” I whispered into the silence, the words clawing their way out. “Our babies. They were going to be twins.”

Kyle’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the enclosed space.

A burst of childish laughter cut through the refined atmosphere. A little girl, maybe five or six, darted between

the clothing racks, her dark curls bouncing with each step. She spun in circles, making her pale pink dress twirl

around her like flower petals.

“Careful, sweetheart!” I called out automatically as she nearly collided with a display of cashmere sweaters.

“You’ll knock something over.”

She stopped mid–spin, brown eyes wide and curious. “I’m practicing being a ballerina,” she announced

solemnly, executing another wobbly pirouette.

“Are you?” Something in my chest ached as I knelt to her level. “You’re doing a wonderful job. Very graceful.”

“I have a recital next week.” She demonstrated another spin, nearly taking out a rack of designer handbags.

“My sister’s in it too. We’re twins! We get to do everything together.”

The word hit like a knife to the heart. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think past the memory of two tiny

heartbeats on an ultrasound screen. Two precious lives that would never spin in pretty dresses or perform in

recitals.

“Mia?” Kyle’s voice seemed to come from far away, underwater.

I stumbled to my feet, vision blurring with tears. “I need… I can’t…”

“Emma!” A woman’s voice called from across the store. “What did I tell you about bothering people? Come back

here with your sister!”

The little girl – Emma – skipped away to join her mirror image by their mother. Two perfect little girls, two sets

of bouncing curls, two matching pink dresses. Two chances at life that my babies never got.

The tears came then, hot and unstoppable. I turned blindly, needing to escape the perfect family tableau, but

Kyle’s hands caught my shoulders.

“Get the car,” he said quietly to the hovering sales assistant. “Now.”

The world passed in a blur as he guided me through the store, past curious onlookers and concerned staff. The

leather seats of his Bentley enveloped me, the door closing with a solid thunk that shut out the world.

“They were twins too,” I whispered into the silence, the words clawing their way out. “Our babies. They were going to be twins.”

Kyle’s sharp intake of breath was the only sound in the enclosed space.