The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 183: Someone They Can Call Dad

Rome didn’t move.

He stayed where he was, half-hidden beneath the tree’s shadow, the cake box held uselessly against his chest. From this distance, he could see everything clearly enough—Sylvia standing stiffly, the way her shoulders had gone rigid the moment she recognized the man in front of her.

Bern.

Rome had memorized his face long before this moment.

But seeing him here—standing so comfortably in front of Sylvia’s house—felt different.

Bern looked... at ease. Like he belonged there.

Rome’s jaw tightened.

He watched as Sylvia spoke his name slowly, like she was testing whether it was real.

Then Cairo appeared.

Small feet padding across the floor. Curious eyes lifting toward the man at the door.

"Dad?"

The word hit Rome like a blow to the chest.

He sucked in a quiet breath, gripping the cake box harder, the cardboard bending slightly under his fingers.

Bern’s face softened immediately.

Rome hated that part most.

The way Bern crouched down without hesitation, lowering himself just enough to meet Cairo at eye level. The familiarity. The way his smile wasn’t forced.

"Hey, buddy.." Bern said, his voice warm.

Rome could almost hear it. The kind of voice a child trusted. Something tight and sharp twisted inside Rome’s chest.

So this is how it is now.

Cairo stepped closer, unafraid, his small hand already reaching out. Bern accepted it naturally—like he had every right to. Like he hadn’t taken a place that was never meant to be his.

Rome looked away for a second, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He forced himself to breathe slowly, evenly—the way he had trained himself to do in situations far worse than this.

Get a grip.

He had no claim here. No right to interrupt. No right to step forward and say anything at all.

That was the rule he’d set for himself.

Still—

His gaze drifted back to Sylvia.

She hadn’t moved. She stood there frozen, one hand resting lightly against the doorframe, her expression unreadable.

She hadn’t smiled. That mattered. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Bern said something else, low enough that Rome couldn’t hear. Sylvia responded quietly, her voice barely carrying past the threshold. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t casual.

Good.

The cake box felt heavier with every passing second.

This was supposed to be simple.

Drop off the cake. Leave it quietly by the door. Walk away before anyone noticed. A harmless gesture. Something neighbors did.

Now it felt ridiculous. Intrusive.

Like he was trespassing on a life that had already moved on without him.

Rome took a step back.

Then another.

The shadows welcomed him easily, swallowing his presence the way he’d learned to rely on. He adjusted his cap lower, his mask still firmly in place.

As he turned away, Cairo’s laughter floated faintly through the open doorway.

It stopped him.

Just for a second.

Rome closed his eyes.

I’ll wait, he told himself.

If there was ever a right moment... it wasn’t this one.

He walked away quietly, the cake box still untouched in his

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

I knew something was wrong the moment the house went too quiet.

Not the peaceful kind of quiet.

Bern was already inside, standing a little too close to the sofa. He looked exactly the way I felt—out of place, careful, trying not to disturb the air itself. Cairo hovered beside him, one small hand gripping Bern’s fingers.

"Daddy..."

Egypt and Paris immediately frowned and exchanged looks. The two of them stood a few feet away, shoulder to shoulder. They didn’t speak. They didn’t smile. They just stared—openly and blatantly.

Like two miniature detectives who had just found a suspicious figure in their living room.

Paris tilted her head first, eyes narrowing slightly. Egypt followed a second later, copying her stance almost exactly.

Bern shifted his weight.

I could tell he was uncomfortable. Adults often underestimated how unsettling children’s silence could be when it was deliberate.

"Uh," Bern said gently, offering a small smile. He raised a hand in a hesitant wave. "Hi. You must be Paris and Egypt."

No response.

Egypt took one step forward.

"You’re not our dad." she said flatly.

Bern blinked.

Paris nodded in agreement. "Yeah. You don’t look like us one bit."

My stomach dropped.

I opened my mouth to intervene, but Cairo beat me to it.

"He is my dad," Cairo said brightly, tugging Bern’s hand. "Right, Dad?"

The word landed like a dropped plate.

I froze.

Bern froze.

Paris and Egypt slowly turned their heads—toward Cairo this time.

The look they gave him wasn’t angry. It was confused.

Paris frowned. "Cairo... our dad is dead."

The room suddenly felt smaller.

Egypt nodded solemnly. "Mom said so. Our dad died before we were even born. Right, Mom?"

Cairo’s smile faltered. He looked between them, clearly puzzled.

"No," he said. "My dad is right here."

He pointed at Bern.

Bern’s fingers tightened around Cairo’s hand, like he was trying to steady both of them at once.

I stepped forward immediately.

"Okay," I said, forcing my voice to stay calm. "Let’s slow down..."

Paris didn’t look at me. Her eyes were still fixed on Bern.

"Mom," she said carefully, "who is he?"

There it was.

The question I’d been dreading the moment Bern showed up at my door.

Bern glanced at me then, uncertainty flickering across his face. He didn’t speak. He let me take the lead, even though I could see how awkward this was for him—how wrong it must have felt to be standing there while children tried to place him into a role he didn’t even belong to.

I swallowed.

"This is Bern," I said. "He’s... he’s a very dear friend of mine."

Cairo’s head snapped toward me.

"What?" he asked, frowning. "But Mom, he’s my dad. Isn’t he our dad?"

He looked at Egypt and Paris.

I couldn’t help rubbing my forehead. This was exactly what I had feared—the confusion his sudden appearance would cause. I wasn’t blaming Bern. I just didn’t know how to explain everything without hurting the kids, especially Cairo.

Paris crossed her arms. "But you just said he’s your friend."

"Yes," I said softly. "He is."

Egypt looked between us, brows furrowed.

"If he’s your friend, how come Cairo thinks he’s our dad?"

Bern let out a quiet breath.

"I know this is confusing," he said gently. "I’m sorry."

He gave me an apologetic nod.

Cairo shook his head, his small face crumpling just a little.

"No, you’re my dad. You always took care of me. You raised me. You stayed with me when I was sick and even slept beside me at night. How can you not be my dad?"

My chest tightened painfully.

Paris’s expression changed, and she glanced at Egypt.

Bern crouched slightly, bringing himself down to Cairo’s level.

"Hey, buddy," he said softly. "It’s okay. I’m sorry for everything. I’m still your dad... but I think it’s time to tell you the truth."

I could see the moment Bern realized where this was going—where it had to go. He looked up at me, his eyes asking a question he already knew the answer to.

Was it time?

I nodded once. Barely.

Bern inhaled slowly.

"Cairo," he said carefully, "I love you very much. And I always will. But there’s something important you need to understand."

Cairo frowned. "What?"

Bern glanced at me again.

I moved closer, kneeling beside Cairo and placing a hand on his back.

"Sweetheart," I said quietly, "Bern isn’t your biological father."

The words felt heavy, even after all these years.

Cairo stared at me.

Then at Bern.

Then back at me again.

I could see tears gathering in his eyes.

"But... you said I was your son.." Cairo whispered.

"I did," Bern said gently. "But the truth is, I’m your mom’s dearest friend. We care for each other deeply. And when you were born—"

Bern paused, looking at me as if asking permission to continue.

I nodded.

"You know I’m a doctor, right?" Bern continued. "I specialize in the heart. When you were born, you were very sick. Your heart needed help. Your mom asked me to help you recover. She was already taking care of your sisters, and she couldn’t do it alone. So I helped raise you."

Cairo lowered his head. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable.

Egypt’s eyes widened. "So you’re really a doctor? Can you tell us how you can completely heal Cairo? Does he need surgery?"

Bern nodded. "Yes. Like that."

Paris stepped closer. "So... you were treating him?"

"I helped him get better." Bern replied.

Cairo’s voice trembled.

"You raised me all these years. Why are you only telling me now, Dad?"

Bern smiled sadly.

"I wanted to tell you sooner. But I couldn’t risk your health. You were very fragile back then. Please, calm down, Cairo."

Bern pulled Cairo into his arms. Cairo slowly relaxed, clinging to him.

"Are you still my dad, even if you’re not my real one?" Cairo asked.

I closed my eyes briefly.

"Cairo," I said softly, "being a dad isn’t only about biology. And it doesn’t mean there can’t be more than one important person in your life."

"So who’s our real dad, Mom?"

Egypt’s question caught me off guard.

"We don’t even know his name," she continued. "We never visit him on All Souls’ Day. I want to know him."

Paris looked at me too. I avoided their gazes.

Paris already knew Rome was their father. I didn’t know if Egypt suspected it as well. Maybe they just wanted honesty—but now wasn’t the right time. I wasn’t ready.

Bern answered instead.

"I’m sure your dad loved you very much," he said gently. "And I know he’s happy now, watching over you."

The room grew quiet again—but this time, it wasn’t heavy.

Cairo’s shoulders slumped. "So you’re not my dad..." he said softly.

Bern placed a hand over Cairo’s chest.

"I’m someone who was lucky enough to be there when you needed me. You can call me Dad anytime. It doesn’t matter to me that we’re not related by blood—you are my son, and I love you very much."

Cairo leaned into him, hiding his face against Bern’s neck.

Paris watched closely. Then she sighed.

"I wish I had someone I could call Dad too..." she muttered.

Egypt nodded. "Me too. I hope I meet someone like Cairo’s dad."

Bern let out a soft laugh.

"I’m here too. You can call me Dad as well. I was there when you were born. I watched your mom give you your names. I saw how much she cried when she held you for the first time. You have memories with me—even before you realized it."

I looked at my children and saw it—the slow bloom of hope in their expressions, like they had been waiting for someone to say those words.

"Okay, Dad!" Egypt said energetically, rushing forward to hug Bern’s leg.

Bern and I exchanged a surprised glance before laughing.

Paris followed more slowly, hesitating, then wrapping her arms around his other leg.

"Bern has always been part of our family," I said quietly. "You can call him Dad, just like he said."

Paris nodded, then hugged him tighter.

As they clung to Bern, my heart ached. The kids never said it outright, but they had always been longing for a father. And somehow, they found that love in Bern.

Cairo sniffed.

"Daddy... can you stay for tea?"

Bern smiled, relief washing over his face.

"If your mom says it’s okay."

I nodded. "You can stay."

Paris studied him one last time, then held out her hand.

"I’m Paris."

Bern shook it. "Nice to meet you."

"I’m Egypt," she added seriously. "And I’m watching you, Dad, starting now."

Bern chuckled. "Fair enough."

For the first time since the door opened, the tension eased.

Not gone.

But softer.

However, outside and unseen, Rome stood frozen. He could hear the laughter inside. He wanted to knock—but his hand wouldn’t move. In the end, he clenched his fist, chocolates and flowers still in his grip, and stepped back into the shadows.