"W-what are you doing here?"
Sylvia stood a few steps away, the kids beside her, and what shocked him the most was seeing Dave with her.
Dave was hovering protectively at her side, looking just as surprised to see him with Sylvia—and with his kids.
For a mont, all three of them just stared at each other, like the world had stopped spinning.
"Sylvia..." Ro breathed.
She looked like she hadn’t expected him to be there. The shock on her face was unmistakable. And when she shifted slightly, Ro finally saw Cairo in her arms, his cheek resting on her shoulder.
And for the first ti, the truth hit him with certainty—no more denial.
Cairo was his son. Paris and Egypt, his daughters.
Sylvia and the kids... his family.
The realization punched the air out of his lungs.
Paris clung to Sylvia’s hand, alert and carefully observing the situation. Egypt, half-asleep a mont ago, suddenly perked up the mont she saw him. Cairo blinked sleepily a few tis before burying his face into Sylvia’s neck as soon as he sees him.
And Dave, his closest friend, soone he didn’t expect to see with Sylvia stood close to her, positioned as though he was ready to block him if he tried to get near Sylvia or the kids.
Ro’s chest tightened sharply.
Before he could speak, Sylvia’s voice cut through the tension.
"What are you doing... here?"
Her tone wasn’t harsh. But it wasn’t welcoming either.
It was flat. Controlled. Calculated—like she had to think carefully about every word she allowed herself to say.
Ro swallowed hard, his throat painfully dry. "I... I wanted to talk to you, Sylvia."
She didn’t blink. "Why? I believe we h-have nothing to talk about."
But despite her calm voice, he saw the flicker of panic pass through her eyes.
"You know there is, Sylvia... please. Let’s talk." His voice broke slightly, and he tried to steady it. He didn’t want her to see that he was just as nervous.
"N-now? Here? In front of the kids?"
Ro looked down at the children—watching, waiting, confused by the heavy silence between him and their mother.
His heart clenched tighter.
"No. Not here," he said quickly. "I just... I just want a few minutes. Maybe later. Or—anywhere you want. It doesn’t have to be long."
"No. We have nothing to talk about," Sylvia answered firmly. Ro froze at the finality of it.
"Y-yes, we do," Ro insisted softly, "and I know you already know what I want to talk about, Sylvia... please. Just this once. I want an explanation from you..."
Sylvia’s fingers subtly tightened around Cairo’s back.
And then she did sothing that hit Ro like a blow—
She pulled the kids slightly behind her legs, as if shielding them from him.
He felt that movent like a knife.
"Sylvia, I’m not here to—"
Footsteps cut him off.
Dave moved.
Not aggressively, just one small step.
But enough to shift his body in front of Sylvia.
Enough to block his path.
Enough to send his pulse racing.
"Ro," Dave said quietly, "I think it’s better if you talk to Sylvia so other ti. This... isn’t the right mont."
Ro’s jaw clenched.
This was Dave. His friend. And yet he was siding with Sylvia without hesitation.
"This is between and Sylvia," Ro muttered tightly. "Move."
Dave didn’t flinch. "I can’t. Not right now. Let the kids rest first. They’re tired."
Ro paused and looked at the children again.
Egypt’s sleepy eyes. Paris’s small, tight frown. Cairo gripping Sylvia’s shirt as if afraid to let go.
Ro’s anger softened instantly. He didn’t want to scare them.
He didn’t want to beco another source of chaos in their already fragile morning.
Sylvia inhaled slowly, her shoulders rising and falling.
"Ro... Dave is right," she said softly, though the caution in her tone didn’t fade. "Let the kids rest first."
Ro swallowed thickly. "O-okay. But can we still talk? Even after they rest... just you. I really need to talk to you. And I need to ask sothing."
Sothing flickered in Sylvia’s eyes—fear and alarm before she quickly hid it. She wasn’t ready to talk to him.
Ro knew her too well.
Every twitch of her fingers. Every shift in her gaze.Every forced breath.
"Not today," Sylvia said. "We’re tired."
Ro unconsciously stepped forward, and Dave imdiately mirrored the movent, blocking him again earning a frustrated look from Sylvia.
"Dave. Stop."
She turned to him.
"Ro... don’t co closer... p-please."
The distinction cut him deeply.
Two warnings.
One for him not to cross the line and one for distance.
He raised his hands slightly in surrender. "I’m not here to make trouble, p-please... I just... needed to see you. I needed to make sure you didn’t disappear."
Sylvia stiffened at the word.
"Why would I disappear?" she asked, but her trembling hand on Cairo’s back betrayed her.
Ro’s voice dropped to a gravelly whisper.
"Because you already did before..."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Sylvia looked away, smoothing Paris’s hair, adjusting Cairo’s little body. Egypt tugged at her shirt, still watching Ro curiously.
Ro felt like he was looking at sothing he had lost years ago, sothing that should have been his, but he no longer had the right to touch.
They were already his family. But he had no right to claim them. Not yet.
Not until he talked to Sylvia and confird everything from her.
He breathed shakily. "Can we talk later? Please."
Sylvia didn’t respond with words. Instead, she opened the door and ushered the kids inside.
Ro felt his stomach sink.
She wasn’t saying no. But she wasn’t saying yes. She was simply leaving him outside. And every second of silence felt like another wound.
Sylvia stepped into the doorway.
Ro’s chest tightened—
Was she going to close the door? End everything? Walk away again?
Then—she looked over her shoulder.
"...I’ll think about it."
Ro’s eyes widened.
"R-really?"
She t his gaze calmly, no softness, no promise—just a boundary she chose to keep.
"I’ll think about it," she repeated. "But not today."
Ro exhaled shakily. She didn’t slam the door. She didn’t reject him outright. She didn’t tell him he had no place here.
That thin thread of hope was enough to keep him standing.
He watched her step inside. morized how Paris clung to her shirt. How Egypt leaned against her side. How Cairo held the collar of her blouse, fussing.
He wanted to be a part of that. Sylvia glanced back one last ti.
"You should go ho. I’ll think about the conversation you want. So o-other ti."
Ro nodded slowly.
His voice barely escaped his throat.
"Please don’t leave again."
Sylvia froze.Her shoulders stiffened. Her hand paused mid-motion. Her eyes widened, just enough for Ro to see the hit land.
"I’m not leaving.." she whispered. Soft. Fragile. Unsure.
Then—she closed the door. Not gently. Not harshly. But firmly like a boundary. A pause. A wall he wasn’t allowed to cross—yet.
Ro stared at the door for a long ti, breathing unevenly.
Sylvia didn’t run this ti.
She stayed.
---
Sylvia’s POV..
-----
The mont the door clicked shut, I pressed my back against it, my knees almost buckling beneath . My chest ached in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Cairo was still in my arms, half-asleep, warm and soft, but I only then realized—I was trembling.
Trembling because of him.
Because Ro had stood there like he still had a place in our lives.
I forced myself to breathe deeply. Focus on the kids.
Cairo nestled closer into my shoulder. Egypt held my hand tightly, brows furrowed as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. Paris tugged lightly at my shirt, eyes heavy but aware she always sensed tension faster than other kids and her siblings.
I had to stay strong. For them.
For this fragile little family I built from the pieces of my shattered past.
I had to keep them safe from the chaos Ro could bring back into our lives.
And yet...
I hated myself for the ache in my chest when I saw him.
For that tiny, stupid pull in my heart. For the way my breath caught when he said my na.
I held Cairo tighter, grounding myself with his weight.
They’re safe. That’s what matters.
But even as I walked them into the house, I could still feel Ro’s presence outside—like a ghost clinging to my mind.
Could I trust him? Could I let him anywhere near us again?
I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly.
We’ll see, I whispered to myself. We’ll see what tomorrow brings.
But even as I said it, I knew—I wouldn’t sleep easy tonight.
Not while he lingered in the doorway of my mind.
Not while a part of still reacted to him, still feared him, still rembered him.
Not while my heart refused to forget him.
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