Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 455

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 455

I stood up from the bench. My legs were stiff, my jeans damp and cold against my thighs. My sneakers were completely soaked—I could feel water squishing between my toes with every step.

“Come on,” I said to Gas. “Let’s go home.”

I clipped the leash back on. It took three tries—my fingers clumsy from the cold, or maybe from something else. Gas waited patiently, her pregnant belly swaying slightly as she shifted her weight.

The streets were busier now. Saturday morning settling in with its slower rhythm. The bodega had its gate fully raised, and the smell of fresh coffee drifted out. For a second, I thought about stopping. Getting a cup. Sitting on the curb. Delaying everything waiting for me at home.

But my kids were there. Kyle was there. And I’d walked out in the middle of a fight without saying anything that mattered.

So I kept moving. Past the bodega. Past Mrs. Rodriguez’s building, where the smell of bacon was even stronger. Past the dry cleaner that never seemed to be open.

I reached my floor. My hand closed around the doorknob. The metal was cool. I took a breath and turned it.

Sound hit me first.

“No! The spaceship goes here! That’s where spaceships live!” Alexander’s voice, loud and absolute.

“That’s not structurally sound. It needs support—” Ethan, calm as ever.

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT SUPPORT! IT’S A SPACESHIP!”

I stepped inside and closed the door quietly, working at Gas’s leash while my eyes adjusted.

The living room looked different. The blanket I’d left crumpled was folded now, draped neatly over the back of the couch. The coffee table was clear except for one mug on a coaster. The throw pillows were arranged. Someone had been awake for a while. Someone had been here, existing in my space.

Kyle stood by the window with his back to me, phone pressed to his ear, one hand in his pocket.

“—convert it to euros first,” he said, all business. “The exchange rate’s better through Frankfurt. Yes, I’m aware of the time difference. That’s why I’m calling now.”

Then I saw the kids at the dining table.

They were dressed. Fully dressed. Not half-on clothes or mismatched socks. Hair brushed. Faces clean.

Alexander wore his dinosaur shirt the right way around, tag hidden where it belonged. His hair was brushed, the cowlick at his crown still defiant but everything else tamed.

Ethan wore his gray button-up, every button fastened correctly. Hair combed neatly off his forehead.

Madison sat in her pink shirt with flowers, her hair pulled into two ponytails—slightly uneven, the left higher than the right—but done. Someone had tried.

Three bowls of cereal sat in front of them. Alexander’s was flooded with milk, like always. Ethan’s was measured with precision. Madison’s had just enough milk to barely cover the cereal.

I just stood there, staring.

Kyle turned slightly and saw me. Our eyes met. He didn’t smile or change expression. Just looked at me while the person on the other end of the call kept talking.

“—the Singapore market opens in four hours,” he said, still watching me. “I need confirmation before then. Email the contracts. I’ll review them before ten.”

Madison noticed me first.

“Mama!” She jumped up and ran over, wrapping her arms around my waist. “You’re back!”

“I’m back,” I said, my hand going to her head automatically, touching the lopsided ponytails.

“Did you have fun with Gas?”

“Yeah. We walked.”

“Gas is going to have puppies!” Alexander announced. “Kyle said so! Can we keep all of them?”

“No,” I said automatically.

“But Mama—”

“No.”

“But they’ll be so cute—”

“Alexander.”

He slumped dramatically. “Fine. But I want to keep one. The cutest one.”

“They’ll all be cute,” Ethan said without looking up. “That’s how puppies work.”

“Then I’ll pick the cutest cutest one.”

Kyle was still on the phone. “—hedge against the yen. Split it three ways. Liquid assets in dollars.” A pause. “No. That’s not what I said. Listen again—”

I moved further into the room. Gas had already gone to her water bowl. Madison followed close behind me.

“Kyle made breakfast,” she said proudly. “He put my cereal in the bowl and got the milk and poured it and asked if it was enough and I said yes.”

“Did he?”

“Yeah. And he helped Alexander get dressed. His shirt was backwards and Kyle fixed it.”

I looked at Kyle’s back. At the line of his shoulders. At the way his hand moved as he spoke—small, precise gestures.

“And he brushed my hair,” Madison continued. “He asked if I wanted braids or ponytails and I said ponytails ’cause they’re faster.”

“They look good,” I said. Uneven, but done. Done by someone who’d tried.

“Kyle’s been up for a long time,” Madison said more quietly. “He was awake when I woke up. Sitting on the couch. Just sitting. Looking at the wall.”

Just sitting. In the dark. In my apartment while my children slept. What had he been thinking about?

“—final numbers by Monday,” Kyle said, wrapping up the call. “If Morrison has an issue with the timeline, he can call me directly. Yes. Fine. Good.”

He hung up and turned around. Our eyes met.

He looked tired. More tired than when I’d left. The kind of tired that settled into bone.

But he also looked present. Focused. Like he’d made some decision while I was gone.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.”

“They’re dressed,” I said, stating the obvious.

“I helped!” Alexander shouted, mouth full of cereal. Milk dripped down his chin.

“Swallow before you talk,” I said automatically.

He swallowed dramatically. “I helped Kyle! I showed him where the shirts are! And the pants! And the underwear!”

“That’s great, baby.”

“And I told him my shirt always goes on backwards and he has to check! And he did! And it was backwards! And he fixed it!”

I walked over to the table, standing behind Madison’s chair, my hands resting on her shoulders. Kyle watched me. I watched him back.

“You brushed their hair,” I said.

“Madison’s,” he corrected. “The boys wouldn’t let me touch theirs. Alexander said his hair was already perfect.”

“It is perfect,” Alexander said, patting his head. “Except for that one piece.”

“That’s bedhead,” Ethan said.

“It’s style.”

“It’s bedhead you decided to call style.”

“Ethan.”

“Boys,” I said quietly but firmly.

They stopped.

Kyle’s mouth twitched—almost a smile.

“Coffee?” he asked.

“Please.”

He went to the kitchen. I followed.

The kitchen was cleaner than I’d left it. Dishes washed, drying on the rack. Counter wiped down. Even the spot Alexander always spilled—clean.

Kyle reached for my favorite mug without asking. The blue one with the chipped handle. He poured the coffee, added milk without measuring.

Perfect.

He handed it to me. Our fingers didn’t touch, but they came close.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You’re welcome.”

We stood there, three feet apart, the counter between us.

“Can I have more cereal?” Alexander called.

“May I,” I called back.

“May I have more cereal?”

“Yes. Just don’t overflow the bowl.”

“I won’t!”

The sound of cereal pouring. Then—

“Oops.”

“Alexander.”

“It’s not that much over!”

I closed my eyes and took a breath. When I opened them, Kyle was closer. Not invading my space. Just less far away.

I noticed details now. His collar slightly crooked. A missed patch along his jaw. The pulse beating in his throat.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. Just for me.

“I don’t know.”

“Okay.”

His expression shifted. His eyes dropped to my mouth. Something raw flickered there.

I licked my lips—nervous, automatic.

His gaze followed the movement. His jaw tightened.

He shook his head slightly.

But his eyes didn’t listen. They stayed on my mouth, like he wanted to—

His phone rang.

Loud in the quiet kitchen.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t reach for it.

It rang again.

“You should get that,” I said. My voice came out lower than usual. Rough.

“Probably.”

Still, he didn’t move.

It rang again.

“Kyle.”

“Yeah.”

“Answer it.”

He finally looked down at the screen.

“It’s the London office,” he said.

“So answer it.”

He ended the call.

“No.”