Read The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins novel by Artemis Z.Y. Updated 2025 -26 - The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 463

The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins Chapter 463

“Three,” Kyle says.

His hand on my hip tightens. I can feel each finger through the denim. The pressure is specific. Deliberate.

He lifts. I push. We move together in a way that feels practiced even though it’s not. Has never been.

I’m up. On my feet. Swaying slightly because the leaves under me shift and my socks are completely soaked through and my legs have that shaky feeling from adrenaline or cold or something else.

Kyle stands too. Brushes leaves off his sweater. They cling to the cashmere. Static. He has to pick them off one by one.

The children have stopped chanting. They’re watching us with that focused attention kids get when adults do something interesting.

“That was close,” Alexander announces. “You almost kissed.”

“We didn’t almost kiss,” I say. My voice comes out too sharp. “We fell. That’s different.”

“You were really close though.” He holds his hands up, making a tiny gap between his thumb and finger. “Like this close.”

“Alexander-”

“I could see it. Your faces were ”

“We should go,” I interrupt. Look at my watch even though I’m not wearing one. Haven’t worn a watch in years. “It’s getting late.”

“It’s only three,” Ethan says. Because of course he knows the exact time without checking. “That’s not late.”

“Late enough.”

Kyle is still picking leaves out of his sweater. One is stuck in his hair. Right at his temple. I can see it from here. A brown oak leaf. Perfectly intact.

I should tell him. Should point it out so he can remove it.

I don’t.

“Can we come back?” Madison asks. She’s standing at the edge of what used to be their leaf pile. Now it’s just scattered leaves. Destroyed by our falling.

“Of course, sweetheart. We’ll come back lots of times.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Maybe not tomorrow. But soon.”

“How soon?”

“Madison.” I soften my voice. “Soon. I promise.”

She nods. Accepts this. Goes to collect her shoes from the deck where she’d left them.

The boys follow. Alexander is still talking about how close we were to kissing. Using his hands to demonstrate the distance. Making exaggerated kissing sounds.

I want the ground to open up and swallow me.

Kyle appears at my elbow. Close but not touching.

“You have leaves in your hair,” he says quietly.

“So do you.”

His hand comes up. Automatic. Touches his hair. Misses the leaf completely. “Other side,” I say.

His hand switches. Finds the leaf. Pulls it out. He looks at it for a moment. Then lets it drop.

We walk back to the deck together. Not talking. Just walking. Our wet socks making soft squelching sounds.

The children are already at the car. Waiting. Gas is there too. I don’t know when she came outside. Don’t remember seeing her in the yard.

“Keys?” Kyle asks.

I pat my pockets. Nothing.

“They’re inside.”

I go back in through the sliding door. My footprints leave wet marks on the floor. Little oval shapes. Evidence of where I’ve been.

The keys are on the kitchen counter where I left them. Right next to those folders. The ones the children found. The ones Kyle tried to look at.

I grab the keys fast. Don’t look at the folders. Don’t think about what’s in them.

Outside, Kyle has already gotten the children into the car. All three buckled. Gas in the back with her head on Madison’s lap.

“Shotgun,” I say. Force lightness into my voice.

“You always get shotgun,” Alexander points out. “You’re a grown-up.”

“Exactly. Grown-up privileges.”

I slide into the passenger seat. The leather is cold. My wet jeans make contact and I feel the temperature difference immediately. Uncomfortable. Like sitting on ice.

Kyle gets in. Puts the key in the ignition. The engine starts with that smooth purr his car makes. Expensive German engineering.

“Home?” he asks.

Before I can answer, Alexander leans forward as far as his seatbelt will allow.

“Can we get food?”

“Boys,” I interrupt. “We have food at home.”

“But we want special food,” Alexander says. “Today is special. We saw our new

house! Special days need special food!”

He’s not wrong. Today has been special. Different.

“What kind of special food?” Kyle asks.

I look at him. He’s not looking at me.

He’s adjusting the rearview mirror. But I can see that small smile. The

one that says he knows exactly what he’s doing

“Kyle=”

“Fried chicken!” Alexander shouts. “The kind with the crispy coating! And french fries! And-”

“That’s not dinner food,” I say. “That’s junk food.”

“It can be dinner if we eat it at dinner time,” Ethan observes.

“That’s not—” I stop. Look at Kyle. “Don’t encourage this.”

“I’m not encouraging anything.” His hands are on the wheel now. Ten and two.

Perfect driver’s position. “I’m just asking what they want.”

“You know what they want. They want garbage.”

“It’s not garbage,” Alexander protests. “It’s delicious fried chicken!”

“From where?” Kyle asks. Still not looking at me. “Where’s the best fried chicken?”

“TONY’S!” Alexander and Madison shout together.

Even Ethan nods. “Their coating has optimal crispiness.”

“Tony’s it is,” Kyle says.

He puts the car in reverse.

“Kyle.” My voice has a warning edge. “We’re not going to Tony’s.”

“Why not?”

“Because I said no.”

But he’s already backing out of the driveway. The wheel turning smoothly under his

hands.

“This is “I don’t have words. “You can’t just ”

“Chicken!” Alexander starts chanting. “Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!”

Madison joins in. Even Ethan is smiling.

Gas barks once. Probably agreeing.

I sink lower in my seat. Cross my arms. “Fine.”

“Fine?” Kyle glances at me now. That smile is bigger.

“Fine. But this is your fault. When they don’t eat their vegetables tomorrow, that’s on

you.”

“Fine?” Kyle glances at me now. That smile is bigger.

“Fine. But this is your fault. When they don’t eat their vegetables tomorrow, that’s on

you.”

“I accept full responsibility.”

“And when Alexander gets a stomachache from too much grease—”

“On me.”

“And when”

“I LOVE DADDY!” Alexander’s shout cuts through everything.

The words explode from the backseat. Sudden. Loud. Completely sincere.

I twist in my seat. Alexander has his arms spread wide. Taking up all the space his

little body can claim.

“I love Daddy SO MUCH! Daddy gets us chicken! Daddy is the BEST!”

My chest does something complicated. Tightens and loosens at the same time.

“Me too,” Madison says quietly. Almost shy. “I love Daddy too.”

Ethan doesn’t say anything. But he’s nodding. Small movements. Agreement without

the drama.

Alexander makes an exaggerated kissing sound. His lips puckered. Eyes squeezed shut. He makes the sound three times in quick succession.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

His eyes pop open. “Sending Daddy kisses! See?” He puts his fingers to his lips. Makes another kissinge sound. Then throws his hand forwarddike he’s tossing something.

“That’s a flying kiss,” Ethan explains unnecessarily.

“I know what it is.”

Alexander does it again. “This is me kissing Daddy! Because I love kissing Daddy!” Another exaggerated smooch sound. Another toss. “Mwah! Mwah! MWAH!”

I glance at Kyle. His hands are still on the wheel. Ten and two. Perfect position. But

his knuckles have gone white. The pressure of his grip too tight.

His jaw is working. That muscle jumping. His throat moves. Swallows. Once. Twice.

He’s not looking at me. Not looking at the road properly either. His eyes keep flicking

to the rearview mirror. To the children behind us.

“Daddy!” Alexander demands. “Did you get my kisses?”

Kyle’s voice when it comes out is rough. Scraped raw.

“I got them.”

“All three?”

“All three.”

“Good! Because I sent them with LOVE! Capital L-O-V-E love!”

He pauses for dramatic effect. “I probably love Daddy MORE than

Mama does! Because I give him way MORE kisses! Like He counts on his fingers. “-a hundred kisses! Maybe a THOUSAND!”