Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 429

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 429

The tears won’t stop.

They just keep coming. Try to blur everything. The kitchen tiles. The counter. Kyle’s face.

All of it runs together like watercolors left in the rain.

My chest hurts. Maybe it broke a long time ago and I’m only now feeling it.

“You don’t know what it feels like,” I say again.

Kyle takes a step toward me.

I step back. My hip hits the counter.

“Mia-”

“You weren’t there for their first words. First steps. First anything.”

My voice is getting louder. I can hear it. But I can’t control it.

Kyle is closer now. When did he get closer?

He’s maybe three feet away. His hands are at his sides. Not reaching. Not grabbing. Just there.

“You’re right,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“You’re right. I missed everything.”

The tears are still coming. I can feel them on my jaw now. Dripping off my chin. So why? How did it end up like this?

Kyle’s hands find my face. Both of them. Cupping my cheeks. His palms warm against my skin. His thumbs moving. Trying to catch tears that won’t stop falling.

“Hey,” he says softly. So softly. “Hey.”

His face is close. Close enough that I can see everything. The shadows under his eyes. The hollows in his cheeks. The way his skin looks almost translucent in the afternoon light coming through the window.

His thumbs keep moving. Keep trying to wipe away tears that keep replacing themselves.

“I know I fucked up. I know.”

The light shifts. The sun moving behind clouds. The kitchen goes dimmer. Then brighter again as the clouds pass.

The light catches Kyle’s face. Hits it at an angle. Makes his skin look almost golden. Makes his eyes look lighter. Gray-blue instead of just gray.

It makes everything look softer. Less real. Like we’re in a photograph. Like this moment is something that’s already passed. Already memory instead of present.

“Hey,” he says again. His voice still soft. Still careful. “I remember you said you forgave me.”

The way he says it. Like this is funny. Like any of this is funny.

“I can take it back,” I say. “I can un-forgive you. That’s allowed.”

Kyle’s mouth does something. Not quite a smile. But close.

“Is it?”

“Yes.”

“That doesn’t sound very forgiving.”

“I don’t care.”

“Okay.”

His thumbs keep moving. Keep catching tears. But it’s useless. The tears aren’t stopping. They just keep coming. Like there’s an endless supply. Like my body decided to empty itself of every tear I didn’t cry for the past five years.

My eyes are going to be so swollen tomorrow. Puffy and red and horrible.

I try to turn my face away. To hide. But Kyle’s hands hold me there. Gentle but firm. Not letting me retreat.

“Stop looking at me,” I say. My voice sounds thick. Waterlogged.

“No.”

“Kyle=”

“No,” he says again. Firmer this time. “I’ve spent five years not looking at you. I’m done with that.”

The light shifts again. Moves across

his face. Catches the edge of his

jaw. The hollow of his temple. Makes him look like something. carved Soptething both beautiful and broken.

“You’re such an asshole,” I tell him.noveldrama

“I know.”

“A complete asshole.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

Because he is. His mouth is doing that thing. That small curve that isn’t quite a smile but close enough.

“Because you’re yelling at me,” he says simply. “And you only yell at people you care about.”

“I don’t care about you.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not-”

“You’re a terrible liar, Mia. You always have been.”

I want to argue. Want to tell him he’s wrong. That I don’t care. That I stopped caring the day he left.

But I can’t. Because he’s right.

I’m a terrible liar.

Another tear slides down my cheek. His thumb catches it. Wipes it away. But another one follows immediately. Then another. Then another.

It’s futile. This whole thing is futile.

“Come here,” Kyle says.

His voice is different now. Lower. Rougher. Like the words are scraping their way

up his throat.

“What?”

“Come here,” he repeats.

And then his hands are sliding from my face. Down to my shoulders. Then my arms. Then my hands.

He takes both my hands in his. Holds them. His palms warm. His fingers long and

thin. Thinner than they used to be. I can feel every bone.

Then he’s moving. Going down. His knees bending.

He’s kneeling. Actually kneeling. Right there on my kitchen floor. “Kyle=”

“Come here,” he says again.

He pulls gently. Just enough that I have to step forward. Have to follow the pressure of his hands.

Then I’m going down too. My knees hitting the tile. Cold against my skin even through my dress.

We’re both on the floor now. Kneeling. Facing each other.

The tile is hard. Unforgiving. I can already feel it digging into my kneecaps. Tomorrow there will be bruises. Small round marks.

Kyle’s hands are still holding mine. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m so

fucking sorry. For leaving. For

!

making you do everything alone. For missing everything For breaking your heart. For breaking us content

His voice cracks on the last word. Splits right down the middle.

“I can’t fix it, I know I can’t. I can’t

give you back those years. Can’t give the boys back their father. Can’t undo any of the damager did. But I need you to know-I need you to understand-I’m sorry.”

The tears are still coming. My vision is completely blurred now. I can barely see

Kyle’s face through the water.

But I can feel his hands.

“I hate you,” I tell him.

“I know.”

“I really, really hate you.”

“I know.”

“Good.”