The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 514

Mia's POV

"That's okay," Ethan says. His voice is steady. Certain. "We're ready."

"Yeah." Alexander straightens his shoulders. Lifts his chin. "We're ready."

I crouch down.

"I love you," I say. "You know that, right? I love you so much it hurts sometimes."

"I know, Mom." He rolls his eyes, but his voice is soft. "You tell me like a hundred times a day."

"And I'm going to keep telling you. Until you're old and gray and so tired of hearing it that you want to scream."

"That's a lot of telling."

"Get used to it."

I kiss his forehead. Let my lips linger there for just a moment. Feel the soft skin, the slight warmth of fever that isn't fever but just the natural heat of a child's body. The heat of life.

Then I turn to Ethan.

He's watching me with those calm, assessing eyes. The eyes that see everything and process it all and file it away for later analysis. But underneath the calm, I see something else. Something that looks almost like uncertainty.

"Come here," I say.

He comes. Steps into my arms. Lets me hold him—really hold him, not the quick hugs he usually tolerates—and for a moment, just a moment, I feel him relax against me.

"The anesthesia," I murmur against his hair. "It's like sleeping. One second you're awake, counting backwards, and the next second you're waking up and it's over. Like blinking."

"That's not scientifically accurate," he says. But his voice is muffled against my shoulder. "Anesthesia affects consciousness in ways that are fundamentally different from natural sleep."

"I know. But that's what it feels like. That's all that matters right now."

He's quiet for a moment.

"I'm not scared," he says. Almost like he's trying to convince himself.

"I know you're not."

"But if I was... if I was scared... that would be okay too. Right?"

My heart cracks. Just a little. Just along the seams.

"It would be more than okay," I say. "It would be completely, perfectly, absolutely normal."

He pulls back. Looks at me. His glasses have slipped down again, and I reach up to push them back into place.

"I think I might be a little scared," he admits. "Just a little."

"That's because you're smart. Smart people know there are things to be scared of."

"But I'm doing it anyway."

"Yes. You are."

"Does that make me brave?"

I think about this. Think about all the times I've been scared and done things anyway. Think about all the things that felt impossible until they weren't.

"The bravest people I know," I say, "are the ones who are scared and do it anyway."

He nods. A small, serious nod. Then he steps back, adjusts his gown, straightens his glasses.

"I'm ready," he says.

Madison appears beside me.

I didn't hear her move—she's like that, sometimes, quiet as a shadow—but suddenly she's there, Eleanor clutched against her chest, her dark eyes moving between her brothers.

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