Ro didn’t move.
He stayed where the darkness held him, just beyond the reach of the warm yellow light spilling from Sylvia’s house. The glow stopped a few feet from where he stood, as if even the light knew not to cross that line.
Ti stretched in strange ways, each second dragging painfully long. What remained in his hands were the flowers and the chocolates, gripped so tightly his fingers had gone numb.
Inside the house, children’s laughter floated through the walls.
Ro’s breath caught at the sound.
He should be happy that they were happy. He knew that. He told himself that again and again, but the truth sat heavier in his chest than any sense of relief ever could. He closed his eyes, but it didn’t help. The laughter only echoed louder in his head.
Jealousy was an ugly word. He hated how easily it fit what he was feeling at that mont. It had been a long ti since he’d felt sothing like this again. The last ti was back when he thought Sylvia had been betraying him—but this ti was different.
And now he couldn’t deny it anymore. Sylvia still occupied a large space in his heart. Because if she didn’t, why did it hurt so badly? Why did the pain cut so deep in monts like this?
It should have been him in there. He should have been the one making them laugh. He should have been the one playing with the kids. It should have been him—not Bern.
Ro swallowed hard.
An hour passed.
Maybe more.
He stopped counting after his legs began to ache and the cold night air seeped through his clothes, creeping under his skin until even his bones felt chilled. He shifted his weight once, then again, but never stepped forward. He wondered what they were doing now.
The kids seed to enjoy Bern’s company—playing with him, laughing freely, without the awkward hesitations Ro had grown used to. Sylvia was probably comfortable too, talking easily, catching up on things that mattered. Bern was lucky to be there at that mont. Lucky to be welcod and belong.
Ro wished, he could experience that too.
His jaw tightened.
Ro lowered his head, staring at the lilies in his hands. White lilies. Sylvia’s favorite.
He rembered how she used to wrinkle her nose slightly whenever he brought roses instead, teasing him for forgetting again. "Lilies, Ro," she would say with a small laugh. "I’ve always liked lilies."
The chocolates were for the kids.
He had imagined their reactions when he bought them—how they might smile, how their faces, despite being wary at first, would still light up with excitent as they received them.
But that fantasy felt foolish now. Pointless.
The front door opened.
Ro froze.
Light spilled onto the porch, followed by movent. Sylvia stepped out first, pulling the door closed gently behind her. Bern followed a second later, standing close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
Ro instinctively retreated deeper into the shadows.
From here, he could see them clearly.
Sylvia looked tired, there were faint shadows beneath her eyes—but a small smile rested on her lips, the kind that lingered after a good mont. Bern, on the other hand, stood facing her, his hands tucked into his coat pockets. The porch light caught the edge of his expression.
Sincere.
Longing.
"Thank you," Bern said quietly. "For letting stay."
Sylvia shook her head. "You don’t have to thank for that."
He smiled faintly. "I still want to. You also let et Paris and Egypt, and it makes very happy. They’re such adorable triplets." He let out a soft chuckle. "It’s the first ti I’ve seen Cairo that happy with his sisters. And it’s also the first ti I’ve seen him act like a child his age. You know... he always acts so mature when he’s with ."
Sylvia listened, her smile softening.
"So I was surprised," Bern continued, voice thick with emotion, "that he could be that carefree when he’s with you. So... thank you. Now I can finally be at ease, knowing he’s doing well."
There was a pause but not awkward.
"No," Sylvia said quietly, almost in a whisper. "I should be the one thanking you more. You’ve done so much for us—especially for Cairo. I don’t even know how to thank you enough."
"I’m glad I could be helpful," Bern replied. Then he inhaled slowly. "And I want you to know... I didn’t co tonight to take Cairo away. I ca here to see him... for the last ti. For now."
"What do you an?" Sylvia asked, her voice faltering.
Bern took a deep breath. "I’m actually planning to prepare for Cairo’s operation soon. When he turns seven—when his body is strong enough to withstand it." He paused. "It’s not just . Your brothers and your father are doing everything they can to make sure the operation will be successful when the ti cos."
Ro’s blood ran cold.
Operation?
On Cairo?
The night seed to go silent around him, as if the world had narrowed to just those words. He barely registered Sylvia’s sharp intake of breath, barely noticed the way her shoulders trembled.
"I’ll be very busy for a while," Bern continued gently. "But seeing Cairo tonight... seeing how happy he is—it erased all my worries. Maybe he really will be ready when the ti cos."
A soft, broken sob escaped Sylvia before she could stop it.
Bern imdiately stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her.
Ro’s vision blurred.
He couldn’t hear everything they were saying anymore. Their voices dropped. All he could see was Bern holding Sylvia, murmuring reassurances ant only for her.
His fingers curled tighter around the flower stems.
Sylvia looked up at Bern, surprise flickering through her tears. "Bern—"
"I know," he said gently. "I know you were worried about that. But I already decided before I ca. We’ll get through this. Cairo will get through this."
Bern glanced toward the door, as if he could see the children through it. His expression softened even more.
"So for the anti," he said quietly, "while I’m not here... please stay with Cairo. With you by his side. With his sisters. He’ll be fine. He’s been asking for that for a long ti. So please... make him happy."
Sylvia swallowed, her throat working as she fought to keep her composure. She looked down at her hands, fingers trembling.
"I want Cairo—and you—and his sisters to experience every good thing this world has to offer," Bern went on. "You deserve it. You deserve happiness. You deserve to be together."
Ro felt sothing twist painfully inside him.
"I’ll still be part of your lives," Bern added. "Always. I’ll visit. I’ll be there when you need . And Cairo..." He gestured toward the house. "This is where he belongs."
A long silence followed.
Sylvia finally nodded. "Thank you," she said quietly. "I was afraid to say it out loud... but this is what I wanted too."
Bern stepped closer, hesitating only a mont before pulling her into a gentle embrace.
Ro looked away.
It wasn’t just jealousy burning inside him now. It was sothing heavier. Colder. The ache of knowing another man was promising what he himself had failed to give.
Sylvia stiffened briefly, then relaxed against Bern. Her hands rested lightly against his back.
"I don’t know what I would’ve done without you..." she murmured.
Bern held her a little tighter. "You won’t have to find out. I’m here, Sylvia. I always will be."
He pulled back slowly, his hands lingering at her shoulders. For a mont, sothing unspoken hovered between them.
Ro watched Bern’s expression change.
Hope.
Then restraint.
"Is there anything else?" Sylvia asked softly.
Bern smiled. "Uhm..n-no..nothing.. I think this is enough. I should go now."
Sylvia nodded, though sothing in her eyes suggested she hadn’t expected that. "Drive safe."
He hesitated, then leaned forward and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to her temple.
"Goodnight." he said.
"Goodnight, Bern."
Bern walked down the path, then stopped suddenly. He glanced around, eyes narrowing slightly toward the shadows.
Ro stepped back behind a post.
"What’s wrong?" Sylvia asked.
"Nothing," Bern replied. "I thought I saw soone. Probably just street rats hiding behind the trash." He sighed. "I should go now. And please... be careful, especially at night. Don’t co out alone. The world isn’t safe these days."
"We will," Sylvia said. "Take care."
Bern nodded once, then disappeared around the corner.
Sylvia stayed where she was.
She watched until she was certain he was gone.
Ro remained perfectly still.
Sothing about the way Sylvia stood there alone—shoulders slumped, gaze unfocused—made his chest tighten unbearably.
She turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
Her foot brushed against sothing.
Sylvia frowned and looked down.
White petals.
She crouched, picking one up between her fingers. "These aren’t roses..." she murmured.
Her gaze swept across the porch, then the walkway.
And then—
She froze.
Ro stepped forward slowly, erging from the darkness. The lilies were still in his hand. The chocolates dangled uselessly from the other.
Sylvia staggered back a step.
Her breath caught sharply.
For a heartbeat, she thought she was imagining him.
Then her back hit the door.
"Ro..." she whispered.
The sound of his na cut straight through him.
"How long have you been there?" she asked, voice trembling.
"Long enough. Sylvia Let’s talk..."
Reviews
All reviews (0)