The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins

Chapter 187: The Truth Behind it

I saw it the moment the words left my mouth.

If he ever told me he loved me... who was I to refuse him?

Rome went completely still.

Not angry. Just... still. Like someone had pulled the ground out from under him, but he refused to fall.

And then it hit me.

What the hell am I thinking?

The thought echoed violently inside my head. Heat rushed to my face, followed immediately by a cold wave that made my fingers tremble. Why did I say that? Why did I phrase it like that? Why did I make it sound as if I was waiting for Bern to confess?

I wasn’t.

At least... I didn’t think I was.

Rome’s face remained cold and composed but I saw it. That slight nod. As if he accepted my words too easily.

"So that’s it.." he said quietly.

There was no accusation in his tone. That somehow made it worse.

"I..." I started, but the rest of the sentence died in my throat.

I opened my mouth again to correct myself, to explain that what I meant was more complicated than that but I couldn’t untangle it fast enough. And why did I feel the need to explain myself to him in the first place?

Guilt stabbed at me almost immediately, guilt toward Bern for using him like that. Maybe I just needed to say something. Anything. Something that would release the pressure of Rome standing in front of me, looking at me like that.

But Rome shook his head.

"It’s fine."

It wasn’t fine. We both knew that.

His expression shifted into something composed again, the same mask he wore whenever he didn’t want anyone to see what he was really feeling underneath.

"I understand.." he said.

He stepped back. Just one step.

But the distance between us suddenly felt enormous. Like a door quietly closing.

Before I could lose my nerve, before he could say anything else, I turned toward the door.

"I s-should go" I said quickly.

He didn’t try to stop me this time.

I walked out of his house without looking back.

The air outside felt colder than before, sharp against my skin. I barely registered the short walk between our houses. My thoughts were too loud, too messy.

What was I thinking?

Why did I decide to talk to him? Why did I open up things I couldn’t even confess properly to myself?

I slipped inside my house quietly. The lights were off. The kids were asleep. The silence wrapped around me like something heavy and suffocating.

I leaned against the closed door and let out a shaky breath.

I wasn’t in love with Bern.

That wasn’t what this was.

But he had been there.

When I couldn’t hold Cairo without crying. When I thought I was going to lose my son.

Bern stayed.

Rome hadn’t.

That was the truth.

Still... hearing Rome say he never stopped loving me...

I squeezed my eyes shut.

It shouldn’t matter.

It was too late.

I pushed myself away from the door and went to our room, but sleep never came.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Rome’s face when I said those words. The way something inside him shut down.

I turned over. Then again.

The clock ticked loudly in the dark, each second stretching longer than the last.

At some point, I must have drifted into a shallow, restless half-sleep, because the next thing I knew, my alarm was ringing.

Morning....

I felt like I hadn’t slept at all.

My body moved on autopilot. I washed my face, brushed my hair, tied it back. My reflection in the mirror looked pale, hollow-eyed.

You look ridiculous, I told myself.

Get it together.

The kids came into the kitchen one by one, still sleepy.

"Morning, Mommy..." Paris mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

"Morning!" I replied, forcing brightness into my voice.

Egypt climbed onto a chair quietly. Cairo followed last, looking unusually thoughtful.

"Mommy, I had a very happy dream last night!" Cairo said cheerfully. "I dreamed about you and Daddy together with Sister Paris and Egypt!"

I looked at him immediately.

"Daddy? You mean your daddy Bern?" Egypt asked curiously.

"Yes!" Cairo replied excitedly.

"Then that was a happy dream indeed. I just dreamed about Mom cooking us sweet and delicious breakfast!" Egypt said with a grin.

"Dreams are usually symbolic," Paris said with a mischievous smile toward Egypt. "Your dream, Cairo, probably means fortunate things will happen. And as for Egypt... well, she’s just a glutton. There’s no deeper meaning. She just craves delicious food."

"Hey! That’s not true!" Egypt protested. "Maybe I dreamed about it because it’s going to happen today. Maybe Mom will take us to a restaurant and feed us something delicious. Right, Mom?"

I forced a smile and nodded weakly. "Uh... maybe."

I couldn’t bring myself to argue. I suddenly felt even more exhausted.

"Hey, what happened to Mom?" Egypt whispered to Cairo, though it wasn’t really a whisper since I could still hear it.

"Why?" Cairo asked.

"Look at her. Isn’t she strange? She looks like a zombie."

"A zombie? She doesn’t look like one. She just looks like she didn’t sleep."

I tried not to overthink that.

I cooked breakfast like a machine — eggs, toast, fruit. I moved mechanically, flipping, stirring, pouring juice. My hands knew what to do even if my mind was somewhere else.

Maybe the kid was right.

I felt like a zombie.

Half-awake. Half-alive.

Every now and then, flashes of last night replayed in my head.

I never stopped loving you...

I nearly dropped the spatula.

Focus, Sylvia.

The doorbell rang.

I froze.

For a split second, I assumed it was Rome’s assistant. He had been the one coming every morning lately, dropping off breakfast, sometimes flowers, never staying long.

I wiped my hands on a towel and walked toward the door.

When I opened it—

I stopped breathing. It wasn’t the assistant.

It was Rome.

Standing right there.

In broad daylight.

No more hiding that he was the one bringing us breakfast.

He looked freshly showered, dressed simply but neatly. In one hand, he held a paper bag. In the other, flowers.

Not lilies this time.

Sunflowers.

Bright. Almost obnoxiously cheerful.

He gave me a small nod.

"Good morning."

My mind struggled to catch up.

"What are you doing here?" I asked coldly, instantly hiding my shock.

He glanced past me briefly, probably hearing the kids’ voices inside.

"I brought breakfast," he said evenly. "And these."

He lifted the flowers slightly.

As if nothing had happened.

I just stared at him.

"You shouldn’t be here," I whispered.

"Why not?" he asked quietly.

Because I don’t know what to do without remembering everything you said last night. It’s still messing with my head, and I hate how it’s affecting me.

But none of that came out.

Instead, I said, "The kids—"

"I know," he interrupted gently. "That’s why I came in the morning."

There was no hostility in his voice. Just steadiness.

Behind me, I heard Cairo’s footsteps.

"Mom?" he called.

Rome heard it too.

For the briefest moment, something vulnerable crossed his face. A look of anticipation. Nerves.

I hesitated.

This was different from last night.

"Who is it?" Egypt’s voice followed.

I swallowed.

"It’s..." I paused.

What do I call him?

Rome saved me from the decision.

"Good morning," he said louder, directing his voice slightly past me. "I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast."

"Oh, you’re Uncle Rome, right? You’re Uncle Alpheus’s friend?"

"Y-yes..."

Cairo appeared at my side.

He looked up at Rome.

Rome looked down at him.

The resemblance was impossible to ignore in daylight.

Cairo blinked once.

"You... I remember you! You’re the uncle from the hospital!"

My heart twisted.

Rome didn’t flinch.

"Yes," he replied softly.

Cairo tilted his head.

"You know Mom?" Then he looked at me innocently. "And you also brought food?"

"Ah... Cairo, he’s not—"

"Yes, I know your mom," Rome said smoothly before I could finish. He glanced at me and gave a small smile, as if we were close. "And I brought you some breakfast."

He lifted the bag slightly. The brand name was printed clearly across it.

Sylvincolm.

My restaurant.

He brought breakfast from my own restaurant.

"Wow! Is that food from your restaurant, Mom?" Egypt asked excitedly as she walked closer to him without hesitation.

I stared at the logo on the paper bag.

Of course it was.

And he even planned to give us breakfast from my own place.

"Uh, y-yes," Rome said, clearing his throat slightly. "I heard you like the food from there, so I brought some. I hope you like it."

He almost sounded shy.

Did he just stutter?

In front of my kids?

This felt unreal.

"Uh... may I come in?" Rome asked quietly.

Not the kids.

Me.

I searched his face for signs of last night’s hurt.

But all I saw was determination and patience.

The man who once made decisions without thinking was now standing on my doorstep at eight in the morning, waiting for permission.

I didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

I didn’t know what came over me, but I stepped aside slowly.

"Just for a while" I said.

He nodded once.

"Thank you."

As he stepped inside, the house suddenly felt smaller.

The kids circled him immediately, asking about the food and why he visited. Rome answered carefully while glancing at me from time to time, as if checking whether he was crossing a line.

And then Cairo did something unexpected.

He reached for Rome’s hand.

Then he looked up at him, their brows slightly furrowed as he studied Rome’s entire face carefully, as if examining every feature.

"Now that I’ve seen you up close like this... don’t you look like me?" Cairo asked before briefly glancing at me. "Mom, is it possible for someone to look alike even if they’re not related at all?"

Everything inside me went silent.

Rome froze for half a second, just half before gently closing his fingers around Cairo’s small hand.

He looked up at me.

Quietly.

As if waiting for me to explain. Waiting for me to answer Cairo’s innocent question.

And that was when I felt it.

Something shifting again.

Something even I couldn’t ignore.

I found myself staring at Cairo, at the innocence in his eyes as he waited for my answer and for the first time since Rome stepped inside the house, I didn’t know what terrified me more.

The question.

Or the truth behind it.