**THREE MONTHS LATER **
We got discharged 2 months ago. Life has been moving so fast ever since, faster than my heart can keep up with. My babies are growing up so fast, their tiny faces changing almost every morning.
Sometimes I just sit and stare at them, afraid that if I blink, I’ll miss something important. Their little hands grip my fingers like they already know this world can be cruel and they need to hold on tight.
Not Leo giving a them a bottle as soon as they cry. He doesn’t even wait, doesn’t ask, doesn’t hesitate. One cry and he’s already there, bottle in hand, acting like a trained soldier on duty.
He is overfeeding my kids, and I swear he does it just to prove that he can handle it too, that he is just as involved as I am. Watching him with them softens me, but it also annoys me because he doesn’t listen.
Leo: Baby don’t you think we need a Nanny they are growing up fast and I got work.
I look at him, really look at him. The same man who once ruled fear with just his presence is now stressed about schedules, meetings, and time slipping through his fingers. And suddenly, it feels like I’m alone in this, like I’m the only one whose whole world revolves around these babies.
Me: You can go and work. I will take care of my babies cause it seems like works matters more than your own family.
The words come out sharper than I planned, loaded with everything I’ve been holding in. Sleepless nights. Endless crying. Studying with tired eyes. Healing while still breaking.
Leo: I don’t like your tone. And this is not the first time I tell you this. If I don’t work how am I gonna take care of my family.
His voice is firm now, defensive. He doesn’t see that I’m not attacking him, I’m drowning. He doesn’t see that I’m scared of doing this alone even when he’s right here.
Me: I told you to take a 6 months leave.
(It wasn’t just a suggestion. It was a plea. A desperate attempt to keep my family whole before life pulls us in different directions.)
Leo: I don’t operate like that and you know I don’t have one company.
And there it is. The world he belongs to, the world I married into. One company, ten companies, danger, power, responsibility. It always wins.
Me: You can go I don’t mind and Auntie Noah will come cause he loves them.
(I try to sound calm, reasonable, like it doesn’t hurt to even suggest someone else stepping in where their father should be.)
Leo: Forget it I’m not going anywhere. It too early for your friends to be all over my babies.
(His possessiveness rises, sharp and sudden. These are his children, his blood, and no one gets access without his approval.)
Me: But they are 3 months. You said that when they are 3 months they can see them.
(I remind him, quietly but firmly, because promises matter to me. Especially now.)
Leo: And you told me that I will have to wait for you for 3 months. And 3 months is over now you are still denying me, a good love session. Since the babies are born you hardly bond with me.
That one hits deep. I feel my chest tighten. As if bonding with my babies means abandoning him. As if my body, my time, my emotions belong to him on a schedule.
Me: Leo are you serious right now. The babies are still young.
(My voice cracks slightly, disbelief mixing with exhaustion. Does he really not see how much this took out of me?)
Leo: Don’t lie to me . You have recovered. Fully recovered.
(I clench my jaw. Recovered physically maybe, but emotionally? Mentally? No one talks about that part.)
Me: Can’t you wait until you hear from me when I feel like it.
(This is me asking for control over my own body, my own readiness, my own healing.)
Leo: I will be in my study if they bother you bring them to me
Just like that. He walks out. No compromise. No reassurance. Just distance. The door closing feels louder than it should.
Now that was crazy. Men are crazy, did he just ask for a love making session while I gave birth few months ago to premature. My mind spins as I stand there, surrounded by baby bottles, toys, and silence. I hardly manage studying, balancing motherhood and my future on a thin line. If I fail this year I won’t blame anyone but myself.
I look down at my babies sleeping peacefully, unaware of the tension in the room, unaware of how much their existence has changed everything. I take a deep breath, reminding myself that I’m strong, that I survived worse than this. But tonight, strength feels heavy, and love feels complicated.
.
.
**LEONARDO **
Katherine and I have been talking for a while now, and every conversation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
At first, I thought closure was harmless. I thought I owed her an apology, a final explanation, something clean to end the past properly. But now she is annoying me, crawling back into spaces I worked so hard to seal shut.
I get a text from her, short but heavy, like she knows exactly how to pull at the loose threads in my chest. Without thinking too much, I call her.
On the call::
Me: What do you want? I apologized to you for whatever I did to Jason. It been months now.
Kat: I told you I want us to meet somewhere and talk.
Me: I don’t want anything to do with you Katherine.
(Every word I say feels firm, final, but deep down I know I wouldn’t be on this call if I truly meant it.)
Kat: Please this once and I will leave you alone.
Me: Okay fine meet where.
Kat: You can come to my apartment I will send you the location.
She drops the call before I can object. I stare at my phone, irritation mixing with something I don’t want to name. Really, why her apartment? When there are so many restaurants with great food out here, public places where things stay controlled. But Katherine was never about control. I wrap up my work, my mind drifting, unease settling in my stomach. Two hours later I’m done. It’s 18:16. Night has already claimed the city.
At home, my babies are already sleeping in their comfy night clothes, peaceful, innocent, unaware of the storm quietly building inside their father. That sight should have stopped me. It should have grounded me. But instead, I feel torn, pulled between the man I am and the man I used to be.
Me: I have to go somewhere
Amanda: Where.?
Me: I will be back soon Babe, I promise.
The lie slips out easily, too easily. I walk out while she’s showering, avoiding her eyes, avoiding the weight of her trust. Every step away from the house feels heavier than the last, but I keep moving anyway. I get in my car and drive to Katherine’s apartment, my chest tight, my thoughts loud. She opens the door before I even knock, like she’s been waiting right there the whole time.
Me: You asked to see me.
Kat: No need to be so cold. I’m still the Kat you know.
Me: What do you want.?
Kat: I can’t get you off my mind Leon. What happened to us. I waited for you. But did you.?
(Her voice carries history, memories I buried but never erased. I hate how familiar it feels.)
Me: Is that why you moved here.?
Kat: Yes I couldn’t find you guys where you lived they told me you moved back. So I followed you here.
(The words hit harder than I expect. Followed. That should scare me. Instead, it unsettles me in a different way.)
Me: Hey I moved on from whatever we had. I’m married now and I have kids.
Kat: Do you love your wife.?
(The question hangs between us, heavy and dangerous.)
Me: Yes . After you I promised myself to never love someone like I did to you but then I found myself deeply in love with Amanda.
(I mean it. I really do. And that’s what makes everything that follows unbearable.)
Kat: But I still have a special space in your heart right. Honestly I never stopped loving you Leon just like how you still do .
Me: You called me for this madness.
Kat: My feelings are madness. You are calling our love madness.
I shake my head and turn to leave. I don’t want to hear anymore. I don’t trust myself. But she steps into my space, wraps her arms around me from behind. Her touch is familiar, deliberate, and my body reacts before my mind can stop it. I hate that it does
Me: Kat stop.
I pull her hand away, breathing hard, torn between leaving and staying. She looks at me like she already knows she’s won. The tension snaps. Boundaries dissolve. One moment turns into another too fast. It’s not love. It’s hunger. It’s unfinished history colliding with bad choices.
But lines have already been crossed. What happens next doesn’t feel like love, doesn’t feel like the past either. It feels empty, rushed, and wrong. A release without meaning. A mistake dressed up as nostalgia. When it’s over, there’s no comfort, no warmth—only silence and regret crawling under my skin.
I wear my clothes and walk out without looking back. It’s almost eleven. Gosh. Panic grips me as I drive as fast as I can, every red light feeling like judgment. When I get home, the sight breaks me. Amanda is breastfeeding Ryan, this one loves breast milk, her face calm, tired, devoted. She looks like home. Like everything I almost shattered.
I don’t say a word. Shame lodges in my throat. I rush to the shower, letting the water burn my skin, trying to wash off guilt that won’t come off. Standing there, I realize the worst part isn’t what I did—it’s knowing I chose it. And no amount of regret will undo that choice.
.
.
**AMANDA **
Finally everyone is sleeping. The house is quiet in that rare, fragile way that only comes after long nights of crying, feeding, and endless rocking. My body feels heavy, exhausted in a way sleep doesn’t easily fix, but my heart feels calm knowing my babies are finally resting.
I can now go to sleep, or at least lie down and pretend that rest will come. I hate that Ryan can’t sleep without getting his milk from me. Sometimes I feel like my body doesn’t belong to me anymore, like I exist only to give, to feed, to soothe. Still, when I look at his tiny face relaxed against my chest, I forgive everything.
I got inside the room quietly, careful not to wake anyone. Leo was standing in front of the mirror, staring at himself, but not really seeing himself. It wasn’t the usual confident, dangerous Leo I know. He looked… distant. Lost in thought. Almost haunted. That was unusual. Leo doesn’t overthink. He acts. He decides. He controls. Seeing him like that sends a strange chill down my spine.
Me: Are you fine.?
Leo: Yes I am.
Me: Okay.
He joins me in bed, but something is off. The moment he lies beside me, I feel it. His heart is beating differently. Faster. Uneven. That really unusual. Leo is never scared or nervous of anything. He is the kind of man fear avoids. So why does it feel like he’s running from something?
Me: Why are you nervous.?
Leo: It’s nothing
Me: What is going on.?
Leo: It’s nothing
Same answer. Again. Okay something is going on. My chest tightens. I know this man. I sleep next to him. I share children with him. He doesn’t repeat himself like this unless he’s hiding something.
Me: Did you kill someone.?
Leo: Not exactly. I told you I don’t kill people. I have changed.
Me: Telling them to kill them that still killing.
Leo: It really nothing let’s sleep please.
I nod and keep quiet, but my mind refuses to rest. Something is not adding up here. He is not someone to get nervous over something small. Whatever it is, it’s heavy enough to follow him into our bed, heavy enough to disturb his breathing. I turn my back to him, pretending to sleep, but my thoughts run wild. I wonder what is going on with him. And why I feel like the truth would break something between us.
.
NEXT DAY**
I wake up to soft noises instead of cries. That alone surprises me. When I check the time, I realize I slept longer than usual. I rush out of bed, panic rising, but then I see it.
He already did everything for them. Feeding. Changing. Carrying. My heart softens instantly. How cute. Matching outfits. On all of them. My babies look like tiny dolls lined up in his arms, and for a moment I forget my worries.
I rinse my face and go downstairs. I eat, my mind drifting between gratitude and unease. Leo keeps glancing at his phone, distracted, like his body is here but his mind is somewhere else. I help him feed them, correcting him gently when he rushes, when he forgets their cues. Afterwards, I head to the shower.
Anyways I’m almost done with varsity. I will be graduating in few months to come. My course was 2 years. Sometimes I sit and think about it — how fast life changed. Like bruh I’m 20 years. Mummy is growing. But red flag I have babies at such small age. I try not to dwell on it too much. I remind myself that I’m strong, that I’m managing, that I didn’t lose myself completely. The water runs down my body, washing away exhaustion but not the knot in my chest.
I showered and went downstairs.
Me: Leo wtf are you crazy.?
I say it sharply, fear taking over as I snatch Kayden from him. He was done drinking from his bottle. Even milk was coming out on the sides. My baby is full and he was signaling his father by not swallowing the milk but he still didn’t pull out the bottle from his mouth. My hands shake slightly as I hold him close, protecting him.
Leo: I’m sorry I didn’t notice.
Me: What on your mind Mmh. Since yesterday you have been acting strange tell me what is going on with you.
Leo: Nothing. Can we go to the park I think fresh air will do.
(The suggestion feels rushed, forced, like he’s trying to escape the house.)
Me: The weather is not good for kids.
Leo: Yeah. I have something to deal with. I will be back.
Just like that. No explanation. No reassurance. He grabs his car keys and walks out, leaving the door closing behind him louder than it should. I stand there holding Kayden, my heart pounding.
What the fuck is wrong with him. I look around the house, at our babies, at the life we built, and suddenly everything feels fragile. Like something is coming. Like a storm I can’t see yet but somehow feel in my bones.
.
.
**LEONARDO **
I wore back my clothes as she was laying down in the bed. The room feels smaller now, tighter, like the walls themselves are judging me. What just happened doesn’t sit right in my chest. There’s no satisfaction, no relief, just a hollow feeling that grows heavier by the second. I don’t even want to look at her properly. This wasn’t what I came here for. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Me: This will never ever happen again.
(The words come out fast, desperate, like I’m trying to convince myself more than her.)
Kat: What? Is she not good in bed? Is she not giving it to you right?
Her tone irritates me instantly. Amanda’s face flashes in my mind — tired eyes, soft hands, a body that carried my children. Shame crawls up my spine.
Me: She is.. (Even saying that feels like a betrayal.)
Kat: Oh there are some changes since she pushed four heads out. Oh I can imagine. Four head at an hour.
Something in me snaps. Anger flares hot and sudden. That’s the mother of my children she’s talking about. The woman who almost lost her life giving me a family.
Me: Don’t talk about her like that. She gave birth through c-section.
Kat: Oh.
She sounded disappointed. That alone tells me everything I need to know. This woman doesn’t respect what Amanda went through. And yet, here I am.
Me: And we she is not ready to you know. She is denying me.
(Saying it out loud makes it sound uglier than it already is. Like I’m justifying something that can’t be justified.)
Kat: So you are using me.?
(Her words hang in the air. Maybe she’s right. Maybe we’re both using each other to fill spaces that shouldn’t exist anymore.)
Me: Am I? That what you get for throwing yourself at me. And is Jason not giving it to you.
Kat: He is away for a business. He is always busy. But he is good but not like you. I guess I just missed you.
Missed me. The old me. The version that doesn’t exist anymore. The man before responsibilities, before love matured into something deeper than desire.
Me: Mxm. You know what we are done here. I regret doing this. I actually thought I still love you but it seem like I’m just confuse. This is not love, just a starving confused man trying to find comfort.
As the words leave my mouth, the truth finally settles in. Heavy. Final. Painful. This wasn’t love. It was weakness. Ego. Loneliness disguised as nostalgia.
Kat: What do you mean.?
Me: It made me realize that the only person I love and care about is Amanda. And my feelings for you has long faded. Open up.
My voice is cold now, distant. I force her to drink the pills, not wanting any loose ends, not wanting consequences to follow me home. Control is the only thing I cling to at this point.
Kat: You think I will wanna have a baby with someone like you. Amanda gave you everything. She gave you a family but here you are. I don’t wanna be a fool like her .
Her words sting because there’s truth buried inside them. Amanda gave me everything. And I almost destroyed it.
Me: She is not. What is your body count.?
Kat: Why are you asking.?
Me: Isn’t obvious.? I guess you lost count. That why.?
She pushes me off her bed hard. The tension finally explodes. I laugh — not because it’s funny, but because laughter is easier than admitting how disgusted I am with myself. I wink at her, a reflex from a past version of me I should’ve buried a long time ago, and walk out, leaving her angry, bitter, and shouting behind me.
The moment I step outside, the night air hits my face and regret crashes down on me without mercy. It’s heavy. Crushing. Unavoidable. I realize then that no matter how fast I drive, no matter how much water I let run over my skin later, this feeling will follow me home. Because I crossed a line I can’t uncross. And the worst part isn’t getting caught — it’s knowing I betrayed the woman who trusted me with her heart, her body, and her children.
