The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 102

Chapter 102 No Second Chances

*Mia’s POV

+25 BONUS

The slam of my car door echoed through the parking garage. I heard Kyle’s door open too, but thankfully, he didn’t follow. My legs carried me forward, each step a small victory against the urge to look back.

*I love you.* His words tumbled through my mind like clothes in dryer, tumbling over and over, impossible to ignore. Why did he have to say that? After everything, after all this time, why now?

I try to walk faster. His words won’t stop playing in my head. They’ve touched something in me. I hate the sincerity in his words. I hate that he wants to make amends.

I can’t let myself love him anymore. It’s getting really bad.

The divorce didn’t bring me the peace I was hoping for. Especially since Kyle came back into my life, I realized I can’t just laugh about the past. Just because you’re no longer married to someone doesn’t mean you magically forget all the details. He shouldn’t expect us to start over. Because we can’t just pretend like nothing happened.

“Get it together,” I whispered to myself.

But the twins seemed to disagree, shifting restlessly as if they’d absorbed my emotional turmoil. One kicked sharply against my ribs, making me wince.

“Not helping, you two,” I murmured, pressing a hand to the spot.

By the time I reached my door, I’d managed to compose myself somewhat. I fumbled with my keys, the metal cool against my trembling fingers. The lock clicked open, and I stepped into the safety of home.

Gas’s nails clicked frantically across the hardwood as he raced to greet me, his entire body wiggling with excitement. Behind him, Mom appeared in the hallway, her face lighting up before quickly shifting to concern.

Mom must have sensed that I had just been crying.

“Mia?” Her voice carried that particular tone mothers develop – the one that somehow communicates *I know something’s wrong without actually saying it. She limped slightly as she moved toward me, her injured ankle still not fully healed.

Gas pressed his cold nose against my hand, whining softly.

“Hey, buddy,” I managed, crouching awkwardly to scratch his ears. The simple action gave me a moment to collect myself, to swallow back the thickness in my throat.

“What happened?” Mom asked, her eyes scanning my face. “You look like you’ve been crying.”

“It’s nothing,” I said, straightening up with effort. “I just… saw this mother with three little kids at the park. They were all holding hands and laughing, and I just…” I gestured vaguely at my eyes. “Pregnancy hormones, I guess.”

Mom’s expression softened with relief. “Oh, honey.” She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the couch.”

That happens. When I was carrying you, I cried over a toilet paper commercial.”

“Really?” I settled onto the cushions, grateful for the chance to take weight off my swollen ankles. Gas immediately claimed the spot beside me, resting his head protectively on my knee.

“Oh yes.” Mom smiled, easing herself into the armchair opposite me. “The commercial had a puppy dragging th through the house. Completely wrecked me.”

ilet paper

Gas moved his ears when he heard the word Puppy. Smart little guy. “A puppy like Gas?”

Mom laughed and said in a special tone, “Even cuter than Gas!”

Gas barked, not happy with what he heard.

“Did your lawyer tell you?” Mom said after a moment, “Taylor’s first court appearance is scheduled for Thursday.”

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Chapter 102 No Second Chances

“Let me guess, her dear daddy dearest posted bail?”

“With help from Helen, yes. Though I hear it strained their resources considerably.”

“Good.” The word came out sharper than I intended.

+25 BONUS

“Richard’s business has been struggling for years,” Mom continued, a gleam in her eye I’d rarely seen before. “This might be the push that sends it over the edge.”

“Mom…” I recognized that tone. It was the same one she’d used when telling me about hiring private investigators. “Whatever you’re planning-”

“Nothing illegal,” she assured me quickly. “Just… making sure certain lending institutions are aware of the pending legal issues before they extend any more credit.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That sounds suspiciously like-

”

“Justice,” she finished firmly. “After what they’ve done to you, to us… don’t they deserve consequences?”

Gas lifted his head at her tone, ears perked with interest. Some people say that dogs understand everything. Is that true?

“I just want it over,” I sighed, leaning back against the cushions. “All of it.”

Mom’s expression softened. “I know, sweetheart. And you will.” She leaned forward, “But first, we make sure those who hurt you can never do it again.”

And I thought of what Kyle had said. “Do you think,” I found myself asking, “Dad ever regretted his choices? Ever looked at his life with Helen and Taylor and thought maybe he’d made a mistake?”

Mom was quiet for a long moment. “I used to wonder that,” she said finally. “In the early days, when the pain was still fresh. I’d imagine him realizing what he’d thrown away, coming back to us full of remorse.” Her smile turned sad. “But that’s not who Richard is. He only regrets consequences, never actions.”

Mom is right.

The twins shifted. I pressed a hand to the spot where one of them was kicking.

“Naughty babies.” Mom said.

“Always.” I couldn’t help smiling despite everything. “Pretty sure they’re practicing for the Olympics in there.”

“You were the same way,” she said, her eyes taking on that distant look of remembering. “Especially at night. I used to joke that you were nocturnal.”

“Still am,” I admitted. “Though these days it’s less by choice and more by necessity. When they decide it’s party time at 3 AM, sleep becomes optional.”

Mom laughed. “That doesn’t change once they’re born, I’m afraid.“”

“Great.” I groaned dramatically. “Something to look forward to.”

The light moment was a welcome reprieve from the emotional heaviness of the day. Gas seemed to sense it too, his tail thumping gently against the couch.

“Have you thought about names yet?” Mom asked, settling more comfortably in her chair.

“A few,” I admitted. “Nothing definite.”

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