My name sounded foreign in his mouth after all these years.
“Marcus,” I replied.
Patricia took one shaky step forward. “Four?”
The word trembled in the air.
“Yes,” I said. “Four.”
Her eyes filled instantly. “You had four babies?”
“I had four children,” I corrected gently. “Babies grow.”
Something in her face collapsed at that. Not dramatically. Not for show. Just a quiet folding inward, like a woman suddenly realizing how much life had happened without her.
The blonde woman looked from me to Marcus. “You told me she lied.”
The room shifted.
Marcus swallowed. “Celeste, I—”
“You told me there was no child,” Celeste said. Her voice was low, careful, and far more dangerous than shouting. “You said she made it up to trap you.”
My children looked at me. Four pairs of eyes, confused by adult words they did not fully understand but could feel.
