When I Had Lost It, A Terrible Fate was Waiting for You!

Early the next morning, Mr. Humphrey and Dimitri, took me to the funeral home. When my children were slowly uncovered after they had been embalmed, my vision blurred with tears. My lips trembled, but I bit down hard, refusing to make a sound.

Dimitri watched me with concern.

He told me weakly, "Nate ... if you need to cry, just cry it out, mate. It’s okay."

I shook my head silently.

Bang! Bang!

Mr. Humphrey slammed his cane against the ground, his face dark with rage.

"Where is that wretched woman? On a day like this, how can a mother be missing from her own children’s funeral?"

Dimitri’s jaw tightened. A flash of anger crossed his eyes before he glanced at me guiltily.

"I called Tatiana, Grandpa," he muttered, voice low.

"Her phone was off."

When the mortician had finished the last touchups and put lilies for my twins, Mr. Humphrey reached his hands to touch the children. But before he could touch them, I stepped forward and touched my children.

My hands tightened protectively around the smooth surfaces of the coffins as I gently picked the lilies from their little hands that would never move.

"They're mine," I said quietly.

"My children."

Mr. Humphrey opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, I knelt before him.

"Grandpa ... you've given me more than I could ever repay, but these children are mine. I beg you-"

My throat tightened, but I forced myself to continue.

"They will not be buried in the Humphrey Family graves. They will not be remembered as members of the Humphrey Family. I don’t want that! I refuse!"

A heavy silence fell.

Mr. Humphrey frowned slightly at what I just said. But Dimitri, who was still supporting his grandfather, met my gaze with quiet understanding. He knew what I had suffered for years.

"Alright, Nate," he said softly.

"You’re their father. It’s your call. I’ll try to make Grandpa understand."

I looked at Dimitri gratefully, then turned and left the funeral home with my hands still pressed with lilies against my chest. After that, I headed straight home. What I had in mind was that I needed to pack my children’s things. I couldn't leave their memories in that cold house.

But the moment I opened the door, a sickening sound filled my ears.

"Oh, don’t do that, Travis ... I just got pregnant. The doctor said I need to be careful!"

A man's voice, hoarse with lust, responded, "Alright, alright. Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt our baby."

Laughter. Moans. The unmistakable sounds of pleasure.

They were in the master bedroom. Our bedroom. How disgusting!

I stood frozen in the doorway as I was forced to listen to those disgusting sounds. My grip tightened around the lilies. To be honest, it really broke my heart.

I didn’t know how long it lasted. Eventually, the door opened. The two of them finally emerged.

Travis looked smug but had the audacity to feign innocence.

"Oh, Nate! You’re back?" he said, smoothing his shirt.

"Tatiana told me the kids were at kindergarten, so she insisted on bringing me over. Sorry about that."

Tatiana walked out behind him, slipping easily into his arms. She didn't even spare me a glance.

"Why are you explaining things to him?" she scoffed. "He has no right to question us."

Travis chuckled. "Alright, alright. Let’s go. You must be starving."

Only then did Tatiana’s gaze finally land on me—but not on my face. Her eyes flickered to the lilies in my arms and her expression twisted in disgust.

"What’s that? Why would you carry lilies, flower of mourning? Ugh. You don’t know how disgusting they are in your hands."

With that, she looped her arm through Travis’ arm and walked out the door, laughing as if she hadn’t just spat venom at me.

I stared down at my arms and gently wiped a hand over the lilies.

"It’s okay," I whispered.

"She wasn’t talking about you two. Don’t listen to her."

I placed them carefully on the coffee table and began gathering my children's things.

Clothes. Toys. Sketchbooks.

On the drawing board, there was a picture my son hadn’t finished yet. I ran my fingers over the lines, tracing them lightly. But my children would never finish anything again.

They would never come back to me.