Fated To Not Just One, But Three-Chapter 634: Feel Left Out

Olivia’s POV

Leon slid off the bed and took a small step toward me. "Mom?" he called uncertainly.

I forced a smile. "Hey, baby."

Liam frowned, confused, his eyes moving between me and the others. "Why did everyone stop?"

No one answered him.

Lennox took a step forward, then stopped, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to cross the space between us.

"We were just—" he started, then fell silent.

I nodded slowly. "I can see that."

My voice sounded calm. Too calm.

Aurora shifted uncomfortably. Levi cleared his throat. Louis looked away.

It hit me then—harder than I expected.

They had already formed a circle.

And I was standing outside it.

The boys sensed it too. Leon moved back toward Levi, instinctively. Liam climbed onto the bed beside Aurora without thinking. Louis reached out and ruffled Leo’s hair, trying to bring the moment back.

But it was gone.

The laughter didn’t return.

I stood there in the doorway, suddenly feeling like a guest in a place that used to be my home.

"I didn’t mean to interrupt," I said quietly.

"You’re not interrupting," Lennox said quickly.

But the way he said it—careful, unsure—made it worse.

I nodded again. "I just wanted to see the boys."

Leon ran to me then, wrapping his arms around my legs. "We were playing," he explained softly, like he was afraid I’d be upset.

"I know," I said, stroking his hair. "It looks fun."

Behind him, I could feel it.

The distance.

The shift.

I kissed Leon’s head and straightened slowly, meeting Lennox’s eyes once before looking away.

"Finish playing," I said softly to the boys. "I’ll see you later."

Leon tightened his hold on me. "You’re leaving?"

"No... I’ll be in the kitchen making your favorite cupcakes," I said, forcing a smile. "Once I’m done, I’ll bring them to you guys."

I kissed his forehead, then Liam’s. Leo barely met my eyes.

I straightened and turned toward the door.

"Olivia," Lennox called after me.

I paused.

Just for a second.

Then I shook my head. "It’s okay," I said quietly. "Don’t stop having fun because of me. I’ll be in the kitchen."

Then I walked out of the room without looking back, my heart breaking.

I could hear the muffled sound of voices starting up again, but the rhythm was different now—hesitant, like a song that had lost its beat.

I reached the kitchen and gripped the edge of the marble countertop. The maids rushed to me, but I signaled them to leave. I wanted to be alone so I could think clearly.

I took a deep, shaky breath, trying to push back the stinging behind my eyes. Cupcakes, I told myself. Focus on the cupcakes.

I started moving on autopilot. I pulled the flour from the pantry and the butter from the fridge. The routine should have been comforting, but the kitchen felt too big, too cold.

For years, I was the center of their world. I was the one who fixed scraped knees, the one who tucked them in, the one who knew exactly how they liked their snacks. Now, seeing them huddled around Aurora, it felt like the world had kept spinning while I was standing still.

I wasn’t just losing my place in the house; I was losing my place in their hearts.

The sound of the mixer drowned out my thoughts for a few minutes, but as soon as I clicked it off, I felt a presence. I didn’t have to look up to know who it was. The scent of cedar and expensive aftershave gave him away.

"Olivia." Lennox’s voice was low, devoid of the forced cheer he’d used in front of the boys.

I didn’t turn around. I kept my back to him, meticulously scraping the sides of the bowl with a spatula. "I told you to stay with them, Lennox. The cupcakes will be ready in forty minutes."

"I don’t want cupcakes," he said, his footsteps slow and deliberate as he moved into the room. "I want to know why you’re acting like a stranger in your own house."

I let out a sharp, breathless laugh. "My house? It didn’t feel like my house five minutes ago. It felt like I walked into a movie I wasn’t cast in."

I finally turned, the spatula still in my hand. He was standing by the island, his expression a mix of guilt and frustration.

"Your kids love you," he said firmly. "No one is taking them from you."

"They stared at me like an unwanted guest," I snapped, my voice finally cracking. "And the way you all looked at me when I walked in... like I was an intruder. Like I was the ’unfun’ parent coming to ruin the party."

"That’s not what it was," he said, stepping closer, reaching out as if to touch my arm, but I stepped back, bumping into the oven.

"Then what was it?" I whispered. "Because from where I was standing, the circle was closed. And there wasn’t a gap for me."

The timer on the oven dinged, a shrill, cheerful sound that felt like a mockery of the tension thick enough to choke on.

"You’re being dramatic, Olivia," Lennox said, his voice hardening, losing that soft edge of guilt. He stepped closer, his presence looming and suffocating. "No one drove you out of that room. No one closed that circle. You did."

I stared at him, my jaw dropping slightly. "I did?"

"Yes," he countered, his eyes flashing with a sudden, sharp frustration. "You’re the one who initiated this ’break.’ You’re the one who decided we needed space. You walked away from us first, Olivia. Did you think the world would just pause? Did you think the boys would sit in silence, waiting for you to decide you were ready to be part of the family again?"

His words felt like physical blows. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but he kept going, the resentment he’d been hiding finally spilling over.

"Our children need us. They need stability. They found a rhythm while you were busy being distant, and now you’re upset because they actually managed to be happy for five minutes? You didn’t think about how this ’break’ would affect them when you asked for it. You only thought about yourself."

"So it’s my fault?" I whispered, my voice trembling. "Everything is my fault because I needed to breathe? Because I was drowning and I asked for help?"

"I’m saying you can’t leave the room and then get mad when the door closes behind you!" he snapped.

The heat from the preheated oven behind me was beginning to sear through my clothes. My head was spinning, my eyes blurred with hot, angry tears. I turned away from him blindly, reaching for the heavy metal tray of cupcake tins to shove them into the oven—anything to stop looking at his accusing face.

In my haste and my shaking grief, I forgot the oven mitts.

"Ah!" I let out a sharp, strangled cry as my bare fingers clamped onto the scorching hot metal. The tray clattered onto the rack, and I yanked my hand back, the pain immediate and white-hot.

"Olivia!"

Lennox was there in a heartbeat. The anger vanished from his face, replaced by pure, frantic instinct. Before I could even cradle my hand to my chest, he grabbed my wrist.

"Let me see," he commanded, his voice rough.

He didn’t wait. He lifted my hand, his eyes scanning the angry red welts forming on my fingertips. Without a second thought—driven by an old, primal habit from when we were younger and didn’t have a million walls between us—he pulled my burned fingers to his lips and sucked on them, the coolness of his mouth trying to draw out the stinging heat of the burn.

I froze. The world went silent. The only thing I could feel was the thrum of my heart in my fingertips and the warmth of his breath against my skin. For a split second, the break, the boys upstairs, and Aurora were all gone.

It was just us.