The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 148: Facing the Unfamiliar Warmth

For a moment, no one seemed to breathe. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Egypt’s small hand tugged at my sleeve again, pulling me back into the present.

I blinked the remnants of the memory away, forcing my heartbeat to slow as the harsh images of the past dissolved into the white glow of the hospital room.

"Mom... are you okay?" she whispered.

Paris nodded beside her, her eyes darting between me and the three men waiting on the other side of the room. Cairo watched too, his expression soft but filled with worry.

Behind all of them stood Sergio Lincolm.

And I hated the worried look he was giving me.

It felt like a hand reaching into wounds he had carved into me long ago, now suddenly trying to soothe them. It felt unfair. It felt too late.

But my children were watching.

So I swallowed everything, the pain, the trembling in my chest, the urge to scream and forced myself to breathe.

"I’m fine, sweethearts. Go talk to them now.." I murmured.

Egypt’s face brightened instantly.

Paris still cautious, but curiosity slowly softened her steps as she followed her sister toward the men who had once caused me so much pain... yet were strangely gentle with my kids now.

Sergio straightened a little, trying not to look too eager. His hands hovered awkwardly by his sides, as if he was afraid a sudden movement might scare the twins away.

Stephenson managed a small, unsure smile, while Sylvester stood stiff as a soldier, looking like he was silently rehearsing how to approach them.

Egypt lifted a tiny hand and waved shyly.

"H-hello... I’m Egypt Lincolm. I’m six years old today... and my favorite color is pink a-and my favorite food is Mom’s shrimp soup. A-are you my g-grandpa and u-uncles?" she asked, gripping Paris’s hand tightly.

Sergio’s lips parted, trembling before he forced out a gentle smile.

"H-hello, sweetheart... yes, I’m your grandpa. I’m S-Sergio Lincolm. And I’m glad to finally meet the two of you today... happy birthday."

The softness in his voice cracked something deep inside me. A softness I never heard as a child.

But I stayed still. Watching. Because this moment wasn’t about me—it was theirs.

"H-hello. Happy birthday. I’m Sylvester Lincolm, your mom’s older brother. And this one right here—" he pointed at Stephenson— "is your mom’s younger brother, Stephenson Lincolm. We are your uncles, and we’re glad to finally meet you."

Paris stepped closer and bowed her head shyly.

"Um... hello. I am Paris Lincolm, Mom’s oldest daughter. I’m six years old..."

Sergio’s expression softened completely. "Thank you... Paris and Egypt... my sweet granddaughters"

He said their names with more warmth than he ever said mine.

Stephenson crouched to their level. "We brought gifts," he said gently. "Not toys like the ones you have." His eyes flickered to the stuffed toys in their hands. "But we hope you still like them."

Egypt gasped quietly. "Really?"

Sylvester nodded, placing his hands behind his back awkwardly. "We didn’t know what you liked... so we bought gifts we think are special."

"A-anything is fine for us..." Paris murmured shyly.

Sylvester and Stephenson exchanged a look. "But as members of the Lincolm family, we can’t give you just anything," Sylvester said. "We hope they’ll be meaningful."

Egypt tapped her chin dramatically. "Then... if it’s not toys, maybe it’s a dress?"

Sylvester laughed. "No, sweetheart, but if you want a dress we can send a designer to make you tons."

Paris perked up. "Then... is it cars?"

Stephenson chuckled. "Do you want cars?"

Paris blinked. "No... I can’t drive."

"Well," Stephenson said with a grin, "I can just give you a driver and a car if you want.

"Are you rich?" Paris asked bluntly.

Sylvester and Stephenson exchanged glances before both laughed.

"Ask your mom if we’re rich.." Stephenson replied, smirking at me.

I shot him a glare, but the twins turned to me anyway.

"Mom, is your family rich?" Egypt asked.

A lump formed in my throat at the word family.

"Yes... they are."

...But they’re not our family anymore.

I wanted to add that, but Cairo was close enough to hear, and I didn’t want to hurt him.

"Wow, so you can afford a car?" Paris asked, losing some of her caution as she inched closer.

"Yes, I can buy you cars. What do you want? Ferrari, Lamborghini, Mustang—just name it." Stephenson said, amused.

"Hmmm... I don’t know much about cars," Paris murmured thoughtfully. "Maybe just buy me a pink toy car? That’s enough."

"Me! I want a toy car I can ride in!" Egypt added excitedly. "Pink with Barbie designs!"

Sylvester and Stephenson exchanged looks and burst into laughter.

"Okay, okay. I’ll send them to your house tomorrow. I promise." Stephenson said.

"Yey! Thank you, Uncle!" both girls cheered.

Stephenson froze, eyes wide.

"Y-you called me Uncle..." he whispered, looking at Sylvester proudly as if he had just won a lottery. " You heard that? They call me uncle.."

"How about me, kids?" Sylvester piped up. "I can also buy you gifts— even real Barbie-designed cars. Just call me Uncle too."

Egypt and Paris looked at each other.

"Okay, Uncle!" they chorused.

"Ahem... how about this old man?" Sergio said, drawing their attention.

"Just call me Grandpa and I’ll buy you lands as birthday gifts."

"Lands?" Egypt blinked. "What are we going to do with land, Grandpa? We can call you Grandpa without you giving us soil we can’t even use."

"Pfft—"

Sylvester and Stephenson nearly bent over laughing.

"You know kids... land is—" Sylvester started, but Paris cut in.

"Okay. I’ll call you Grandpa from now on. But... how many square meters of land will you give us?"

Sergio’s mouth twitched into a smirk. "Not square meters, sweetheart. Hectares. Hundreds, if you want."

Paris’s eyes widened. "Hundreds? That means..." She counted on her tiny fingers. "That’s hundred thousands of square meters?"

"Haha, yes. My smart Paris."

While Paris stared in awe, Egypt frowned slightly.

"Sister... what are you going to do with land? Are you planning to go farming?"

"Pffft—" Sylvester erupted laughing again.

Egypt’s confused expression made Stephenson wipe a tear of laughter. "Sweetheart, farming is one option... but land can also mean you can build houses, playgrounds, businesses—anything you want there."

"Ohhh..." Egypt whispered, still processing. " but I still want the Barbie car more."

Watching them, it felt almost unreal. The same brothers who once stood like stone walls in front of everyone were now softening into clumsy, awkward giants trying their hardest to win the affection of two little girls.

A gentle warmth settled over the room... a warmth I never expected, and one I didn’t know how to stand inside.

I glanced at Sergio—and found him staring at me with an expression I had rarely seen in my entire life.

Regret.

Real, unmistakable regret.

My chest tightened painfully. I looked away.

Soon, the twins settled near Cairo, talking comfortably now with the three men who—just earlier—I would’ve sworn had no place near my children.

Egypt was now asking how rich they were. Paris was grilling Sylvester about the Lincolm estates and Cairo giggled whenever Egypt is confuse about something.

The scene looked... almost normal.

Almost.

But not to me.

I leaned quietly against the wall, arms crossed, trying to breathe past the heavy ache spreading through my chest.

Because the way they treated my children—with gentleness, patience, warmth was everything they had never given me.

Everything I learned to live without.

I bit the inside of my cheek, holding back the sting behind my eyes.

*************

Hours later, when visiting time ended, I gently told the kids to say their goodbyes to their uncles.

They hugged Cairo, kissed his forehead, and promised to visit again tomorrow. Cairo smiled sleepily before drifting off.

I stepped out first to give them space.

But I should’ve known Sergio wouldn’t let me leave.

"Sylvia."

His low voice stopped me inches from the door.

I tensed. I didn’t turn around.

The hallway was quiet—too quiet.

I could feel him behind me, only a few steps away, unsure if he had any right to come closer.

He didn’t.

But he did anyway.

"I want to talk to you." he said softly.

I clenched my jaw. "There’s nothing to talk about."

"There is." His voice wavered. "You know there is."

I closed my eyes. But his next words shattered my composure.

"I saw your face earlier," he murmured. "When the twins talked to me. You looked like you were hurting."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Hurting? That’s an understatement."

He flinched—barely, but enough.

"Sylvia... I know you don’t want to hear it. But I’m sor—"

"Don’t." My voice cracked sharply. I spun around, glaring at him with fire burning in my chest. "Don’t you dare say sorry. Not like that. Not when it’s this late."

He went still.

Stephenson and Sylvester stepped out from behind him, going silent immediately as they sensed the tension. They stayed back, not daring to interrupt.

I steadied my breath.

"You want to know what hurts?" I whispered, voice trembling not with fear, but with years of buried pain. "Seeing you be gentle with my children."

"Sylvia—"

"No. Let me finish."

He shut his mouth.

"Seeing your hands tremble when you touched Cairo," I said, "seeing you care for my kids when you never cared for me... acting like it never happened..."

My breath shook. "It hurts."

Sergio’s eyes glistened—pain, guilt, realization.

"And when I was a child," I whispered, "I needed that softness you gave them today. I needed you to look at me the same way. But you didn’t. You never did."

"Sylvia..." His voice was raw. "I was wrong."

I laughed again, but it cracked. "Wrong? You were worse than wrong."

He lowered his head slowly. For the first time, he looked small. Human.

"Everything you said is right," he murmured. "And I don’t expect forgiveness. I don’t deserve it." His voice broke. "But let me try to be better with them. Let me at least do that."

I stared at him—the man who once terrified me—now trembling.

"I’m not doing this for you," I said quietly. "I’m doing it for my children."

"I know."

"And don’t mistake this for a second chance," I added. "Because what you broke... I can never get back."

His face twisted with guilt. "I understand."

The silence between us stretched long and heavy. Painful. Necessary.

Finally, I exhaled shakily and stepped back.

"Visiting hours are over," I said. "You should leave."

Sergio nodded. The brothers followed him.

Before turning away, he murmured, "Sylvia... even if you never forgive me... thank you for letting them talk to us."

I didn’t answer.

I walked past him and for the first time since the day I ran away from that house...

...I realized healing wasn’t about forgetting the past.

It was about finally being strong enough to face it.