The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 502

Mia's POV

Alexander's sneaker squeaked against the linoleum. "Daddy?"

Kyle's hand lifted off the blanket. Slow. The IV tube trailing behind it like a leash. His fingers found Alexander's hair.

Alexander climbed. His knee caught the bed rail. His elbow jabbed into Kyle's hip. The heart monitor spiked.

Alexander's face pressed into Kyle's shoulder. The hospital gown bunched under his cheek, the fabric dotted with small blue diamonds, the kind of pattern. Alexander's fingers found the edge of the gown and twisted. Held.

"You woke up." The words were muffled. Wet. "You woke up you woke up you woke up—"

Kyle's hand moved in Alexander's hair. Once. Twice. His eyes were closed again. At the foot of the bed, Ethan stood.

"Ethan." Kyle's voice was rough. Sandpaper on wood."Come here, Ethan."

Kyle's hand extended. Palm up. The IV line stretched. The needle shifted under the tape. The seconds stretched. I could hear Alexander's breathing. I could hear the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. I could hear, from somewhere down the hall, the soft chime of another patient's call button.

Ethan moved. Two steps, three, and then his hand was in Kyle's, and Kyle was pulling him in.

He didn't cry. Not exactly. But his shoulders shook.

Madison was on my hip. She'd been there the whole time. I'd almost forgotten—the way you forget the weight of something you've been carrying for days. Her arms were locked around my neck. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Her face was buried in my shoulder, and she hadn't made a sound.

"Madison." Kyle's voice again. Softer now. "Sweetheart."

She shook her head. I felt it—the small movement against my shoulder. The brush of her hair against my jaw.

"Madison. Look at me." Another shake. Harder this time.

I carried her to the bed. Sat on the edge. The mattress dipped under our weight. Alexander shifted; Ethan didn't.

Madison's face stayed hidden.

"It's okay," I said. Into her hair. Into the smell of her—hospital soap and something sweeter underneath, something that was just her. "It's okay. You don't have to look yet."

But Kyle was patient. He'd always been patient when it mattered—it was one of the things I'd hated about him, during the divorce. The way he could wait. The way he could outlast anyone.

Minutes passed. Maybe two. Maybe ten.

Then Madison lifted her head.

"I thought—" Her voice was barely there. A thread of sound. "I thought you were going to leave. Like my other daddy."

Kyle's hand reached toward her.

"Madison."

"He was sick too. He was in a bed like this. With the beeping. And the tubes. And he said he would get better. He promised."

I felt her fingers dig into my shoulder.

"And then he didn't."

Madison was quiet for a moment. Then her hand extended slowly. Her fingers touched Kyle's cheek. She traced the line of his jaw. The hollow beneath his cheekbone.

"Your face is scratchy."

"I haven't shaved."

"It's like a cactus."

Kyle made a sound. It might have been a laugh. It might have been something else.

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