His fingers lingered against her cheek. "I know you’ve been here this whole ti," he said quietly.
Amara looked up. "But I missed you." His voice cracked slightly. "I missed my wife so much." Sothing tightened in Amara’s chest. Because she had missed him too.
More than she wanted to admit. She placed her hand over his heart. The steady beat pulsed beneath her palm.
"We’ve both been through a lot." Julian nodded. "Yeah." For a mont, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm.
Safe. The kind of silence only people deeply connected could share. Then Amara tilted her head. A mischievous smile appeared on her face.
"So..." Julian imdiately beca suspicious.
"So?"
"What other secrets are you hiding from ?"
His smile froze. Amara narrowed her eyes. "Don’t look at like that."
"I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Julian." She poked his chest again.
"We’re a team. No more secrets. No more hiding things from each other, rember we already established that rule." Her expression softened.
"Whatever it is, we’ll face it together." Julian’s heart pounded. The words hit harder than she realized. Because there was still one secret.
One truth. A truth big enough to change everything. His gaze dropped briefly. The baby girl. The truth about their real daughter.
The truth he had been carrying alone. The truth that could either bring them closer... Or destroy everything they had rebuilt. His stomach twisted.
Maybe it was ti. Maybe she deserved to know. Maybe he had waited long enough. Julian swallowed. Slowly, he lifted his eyes to hers.
"Amara..." She waited patiently. Julian took a deep breath. "There’s sothing I need to tell you about the..." Suddenly, a crackling sound interrupted him.
Both of them turned. The baby monitor lit up. A second later, tiny cries filled the room. Then another. One baby. Then the other. Amara imdiately smiled.
"The babies are awake." The serious mont shattered instantly. Julian closed his mouth. The confession died on his tongue. For now. Amara was already standing.
"Looks like our little bosses have decided this conversation is over." Julian laughed despite himself.
"Duties call," Amara said, already pulling back slightly.
"Hey." Julian shifted and touched her elbow lightly. "I’ll go. You should finish what you were doing."
"Julian—"
"The nanny isn’t there," he said simply, already moving toward the door. "I’ve got it."
And before she could say another word, he was gone, his footsteps quiet down the hallway. Julian heard Josh before he even reached the door.
That particular cry, short, frustrated bursts, working itself up to sothing bigger, was one he had learned to recognise.
He pushed the nursery door open and stepped in, and sure enough, there was his son, face red, arms moving with the full outrage of soone who had woken up in an unacceptable situation.
Divina was still quiet in her crib. For now.
"Alright, alright." Julian crossed the room in four steps and reached in and scooped Josh up against his chest. The baby’s crying stuttered for a mont, surprised by the sudden warmth, and Julian used that window.
"Let’s see what the problem is, champ."
He carried him to the changing table, one hand always on him, and checked. Wet. He nodded to himself like a man confirming a diagnosis.
"Thought so."
He worked quickly and efficiently, the way he had taught himself over the past weeks, wipes, fresh diaper, all of it, and sowhere in the middle of it, Josh stopped crying and started staring up at him with those wide, serious eyes, like he was listening to sothing only he could hear.
Julian looked back at him.
"What?" he said.
Josh’s face broke into a sudden, gummy, completely unguarded smile.
Julian laughed. A real one, the kind that ca without warning and ant sothing. He leaned down slightly, his voice dropping to the low playful register he only ever used in this room.
"Oh, so now you’re happy," he said. "Now that I’ve handled everything, now you want to smile at ." Baby Josh made a sound that was almost certainly not a word but felt like agreent.
Julian shook his head, still smiling, and reached for the fresh babygrow.
And that was the exact mont Divina decided enough was enough.
The cry ca loud and imdiate, no warm-up, no warning, just full volu from the start, the way Divina always did everything.
Julian looked over his shoulder at her crib, then down at Josh, who was not yet fully dressed.
"Okay." He turned back to Josh and moved a little faster. "Okay, little princess, just...one second. I am coming to you. I promise. Hold on just a little..."
Divina’s response to this was to cry louder.
Julian snapped the last button on Josh’s babygrow, lifted him carefully, and crossed to Divina’s crib still carrying his son.
"I’m here, I’m here," he said, looking down at her.
He was halfway through figuring out the logistics of picking her up with one arm when the door opened behind him.
Amara walked in.
She took in the room in one sweep, the way she always did, quick and complete. Josh in Julian’s arms, settled now, almost drowsy again. And Divina in the crib, crying hard, face turned toward the sound of voices, waiting to be picked up.
And Julian, standing over her crib.
Still holding Josh.
Amara didn’t say anything. She walked to Divina’s crib and reached in and lifted her daughter against her chest, and Divina’s crying shifted imdiately into sothing more like complaint, still loud but no longer desperate. Amara rocked her slowly, her hand firm and steady on the small back.
The room was quieter now. Not quiet, Divina was still making her feelings known but quieter. Amara looked at Julian across the small space between the two cribs.
Julian looked back at her.
He was rocking baby Josh almost without thinking about it, the way he always did, the gentle automatic sway of it. And he could see it, the thing moving behind Amara’s eyes. He had seen it before. Not anger, not quite.
Sothing more careful than anger. Sothing she had clearly been filing away, building a case from small monts, late-night thoughts she hadn’t spoken out loud.
He picked Josh first. He was going to leave her there. He could see her thinking it.
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