The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 396

Chapter 396 Mom’s coming

Mia’s POV

The fluorescent lights in Kyle’s hospital room hummed.

That sound you don’t notice until someone mentions it, and then you can’t stop hearing it.

Sophie was the first to move, gathering her scarlet coat from where it had pooled on the floor during all the drama. She smoothed it over her arm.

“I should go,” she announced. She moved to Kyle’s bedside. She leaned down and kissed Kyle’s forehead.

“You will try,” she said quietly. “Yes?”

“I’ll try.”

“Good. Because if you die after making those beautiful children promise to help you live, I will never forgive you. I will hunt you into the afterlife and make your ghost life miserable.”

Kyle smiled. “Noted.”

She straightened, turned to me. “Mia, ma chérie. Call me if you need anything. Food, money, someone to yell at—I am available for all services.”

“Thank you, Sophie.”

“I mean it. Anything.” She looked at the children. “And you three-the small generals—you were very wise today. Keep being wise. The world needs more wise small people.”

Alexander saluted. An actual military salute, hand to forehead, back straight.

Sophie returned the salute with equal seriousness, then swept out of the room in a cloud of expensive perfume and rustling silk.

Thomas moved toward the door next. He paused, his hand on the frame, looking back at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“Mia,” he said,

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad.” He gestured vaguely at Kyle, at the children. “I’m glad he has a chance. Whatever happens between us… I’m glad about this.”

My throat closed up. “Thank you.”

He nodded once, then left.

Scarlett and Morton were the last. They stood together by the window, Morton’s arm around Scarlett’s waist in a way that looked both casual and deliberate. Like he was reminding himself she was real and here and his.

“We should go too,” Scarlett said. “Let you guys rest.”

Madison had fallen asleep against Kyle’s side, her small hand still clutching her river stone. Alexander and Ethan were fighting to keep their eyes open, the day’s emotions and excitement finally catching up with them.

“Kyle,” Scarlett said, moving closer to the bed. Her voice had gone soft. “Don’t die tonight, okay? That would be really inconvenient for everyone.”

Kyle’s laugh was more breath than sound. “I’ll try not to.”

“I’m serious. We just had this whole emotional breakthrough moment and voted on your promise and everything. It would be really rude of you to die right after that.”

“Noted. No dying tonight.”

“Or any night, ideally.”

“Working on it.”

“You’re an idiot. But you’re our idiot. So stick around.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then they left too.

The room felt bigger with everyone gone. Emptier, despite the four of us still in it.

“We should go too,” I said quietly. “Let you rest.”

Kyle’s hand tightened on Alexander’s shoulder.

“Come on, babies,” I said, scooping Madison up. “Time to go home.”

“Don’t wanna,” Alexander mumbled.

“I know. But we have to.”

Kyle helped Ethan down from the bed, his movements careful. “I’ll see you tomorrow, buddy.”

Ethan blinked up at him. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” Ethan leaned forward and hugged Kyle’s waist. “Good night, Dad.”

The smell hit me first. Roasted chicken. Herbs. Fresh bread. The particular scent of love translated

into food.

“Mom,” I said. “I thought you were in Morocco.”

“We were. We came back early.” She took Madison from my arms with practiced ease. “Hugo had a conference in Boston, so we thought we’d stop through.”

Hugo. Her boyfriend. The cardiologist.

The apartment looked different with her in it. Warmer. More lived-in.

“You didn’t have to-“I started.

“Hush. Of course I did.” She carried Madison toward the bedrooms. “Let’s get these babies to bed. We can talk after.”

It took another forty minutes to get them settled. Pajamas and teeth-brushing and the usual negotiations about water and which stuffed animal and whether the door should be open or closed.

My mother moved through the routine like she’d never left, reading stories in her soft voice, humming the old songs, tucking blankets with the precision that came from years of practice.

When we finally emerged from their room, closing the door to just a crack, I felt like I’d run a

marathon.

“Sit,” my mother said, pointing at the couch. “I’ll get you a plate.”

“Mom, I can-”

“Sit, Mia.”

I sat.

She brought me food. A glass of wine that probably cost more than I usually spent on groceries.

I ate without tasting.

My mother sat across from me, her own plate balanced on her lap, watching me.

“How long has Kyle been sick?” she asked quietly.

I set my fork down. “How did you-?”