Babies' Secret: My Ex Wants Me Back!
Chapter 53: Those kids are ours

Chapter 53: Those kids are ours

Chapter 53

Brenda sat alone in her estate. The maids were taking a brief break, so the estate was silent and quiet, which was trifling. Jasmine’s laughter faintly echoed in her head—the way her eyes widened at every fascinating thing she saw in the mall and the way she bounced around excitedly. While Hanith silently nodded in affirmation, a little scrunch of his nose, and how he had softly whispered, "Thank you," after receiving that gift—even though he barely said a word the entire time.

Brenda found herself smiling at the memory. It was precious. Her brow quickly came together. She wasn’t supposed to feel this. She wasn’t supposed to care. But those kids were her grandchildren.

And yet—a bittersweet smile latched onto her face. She didn’t like their mother. She never would. But—

Brenda stared at the stuff she bought for the kids, scattered on the ground, and the picture of Aaron when he was around their age. Maybe six or five, grinning with cake frosting smudged on his face. She smiled slightly. Her fingers faintly trailed over the picture, her chest pulled with melancholy. Her son. "They really are his," she whispered to herself.

The realization hit harder than she expected.

A breath shuddered through her lungs before she straightened her back, placing the photo carefully on the table.

Brenda’s hand clenched on the teacup handle as she dropped it on the table. Her son! Her precious son that she raised with care and attention really surprised her when he came to pick the kids. How he argued with her—disagreed with her?! How he came to the estate like a stranger.

She turned to the intercom to call one of her oldest confidantes among her maids who was currently present in the estate.

"Pack all the kids’ stuff in the room," she said, her eyes zeroing in on the Iron Man toy Jasmine was playing with the previous day. "Put them in a box and you’ll see one old photo of Aaron," she massaged the bridge of her nose, "put it in the package and send it to Katherine," she finished.

"But Ma’am—"

"Just do it," she snapped. "Don’t put any note or address in it." Then in a softer voice, "I’ll never like that woman. But... those kids are ours."

She sat back down, not touching her tea. "She’ll leave one way or another, but not with my grandchildren."

That bitch made her and her son clash.

.

It was like the twins knew that something was wrong. They didn’t talk about Uncle Piano, and Jasmine, who normally bounced with her energetic attitude, was oddly calm. Her laughter was toned down, her endless questions subsided, even her curious energy dimmed. While Hanith, always more observant, kept close to Katherine—watching her, trailing after her, snuggled to her, maybe to assure Katherine.

And Katherine...

Took a break from work. She stared out the window more than usual, maybe hoping to catch a glimpse of him through it. And her phone lay beside her, Aaron’s text still open again for the umpteenth time. She had read it the first night, then reread it again. And again.

And still again.

She was staring at the window when the twins came to her, holding each other’s hands and their eyes downcast. Katherine blinked, surprised to see them. Hanith nudged his sister, and she nodded.

"Mommy, we are sorry," Jasmine said, twirling her fingers. "We weren’t supposed to follow the stranger, no matter what," she added in a small voice, while Hanith nodded beside her.

"It’s okay, hun," she said softly, bending to their level.

"We are sorry for making you and Uncle Piano fight," Katherine was shocked by it. She looked at them.

"It wasn’t Uncle Piano’s fault," Hanith muttered, coming to tug the sleeve of her dress. "He didn’t do anything wrong, we—" he hiccuped and Katherine’s chest thudded as she pulled him into a hug.

"And Grandma didn’t do anything bad to us. She bought many things for us," Jasmine said. "But if you don’t want us—"

Katherine didn’t let them finish before she pulled her into a hug too, caressing both of the backs of their heads.

"I’m sorry. Mum too was wrong," she said, pecking their foreheads.

After the heartfelt talk, Jasmine started chattering about everything that happened, what they ate and saw. Katherine could feel her kids enjoyed their little time with Brenda—but Brenda was anything but good or nice.

Katherine couldn’t believe it—that the woman who caused her misfortune was good to her children.

In that moment, the apartment bell rang and she looked at the twins before going to the door. Her heart skipped, thinking it was Aaron, but her expectation was wrong when she opened the door to see a brown box lying on the floor.

She ducked her head out into the hallway but saw no presence of anyone, then carried the box inside.

"Mommy, who’s that?" Jasmine asked while Katherine shrugged her shoulders.

She placed the box on the table. It was quite heavy. She looked at the box, trying to inspect or deduce what could be inside, before gesturing to Jasmine to bring the cutter.

Collecting the cutter from Jasmine, she looked at her daughter and cut the cellotape. Katherine bit the side of her cheek and opened it.

The first thing she saw was the Iron Man toy—the exact one Jasmine begged for that time they went to the store—then some soft plush and other things.

And finally, nestled between the items, was a photo.

It was old—black and white.

Aaron, chubby-cheeked and shirtless, with his baby curls sticking up and his eyes wide and mischievous.

Katherine’s breath caught in her throat. This wasn’t a coincidence. Her hands trembled.

Her first instinct was to throw the whole thing out. Slam the box shut and toss it in the ocean like a time bomb. But the happiness twinkling in her kids’ eyes as they grabbed those toys held her back.

Katherine’s chest thumped from the fear that Brenda knew her house. She already knew it was only a matter of time before Brenda found her—but here was her gift to her. Maybe to rattle her, and it really did.

Her eyes looked at the picture again. Her heart pulled—so soft and innocent.

She looked at her kids who were already lost in their world as they played with the toys. She took the picture and went to her room.

Katherine walked silently to her bedroom, went to the reading table and brought out her old diary, and slid the picture in it without a word or second look.

Out of her sight.

Out of her reach.

Yet not out of her mind.