Family Secret

Chapter 8

Dinner was a quiet affair at first. The table was set with simple plates, steam rising from the chicken, rice, and vegetables Nate had prepared. His cooking wasn’t anything fancy, but it was hearty, filling, and enough to keep the little family satisfied.

Ryan sat stiffly in his chair, fork idly pushing grains of rice back and forth, his sharp eyes darting between Nate and Alexia. Kyan, on the other hand, ate happily, humming between bites, rice clinging to her cheeks. Alexia tried to keep up with the children’s pace, though her eating style was a little messy too—more human, less refined. Nate noticed, his gaze lingering on her as if he were silently taking stock.

Breaking the silence, Nate leaned back in his chair and said, “When we go to the open house at Star Academy, you tell them Alexia has been your mother for the past year and a half. No exceptions.” His voice carried a quiet authority, the kind that made both kids glance up.

Ryan’s fork froze mid-air. His gift hummed at the back of his mind, and he couldn’t resist pulling Nate’s thoughts forward.

They have to be convincing. The interview with the headmaster is just as important as the exam. If they don’t believe us, we won’t stand a chance. All three of them need to match their answers perfectly.

Ryan’s eyes flicked to Nate again as more thoughts came.

And Alexia… she’s beautiful. Maybe the headmaster will be too distracted to notice any holes. She’s messy, like the kids, but somehow that only makes her more… real.

Ryan chuckled quietly before he could stop himself.

The sudden sound drew everyone’s attention. Nate narrowed his eyes. “What’s so funny, Ryan?”

Ryan stammered, scrambling for an excuse, “Uh—nothing. Just… something stupid.”

Kyan came to his rescue without even realizing it, giggling with her mouth full, pieces of rice clinging to her cheeks. “Daddy, don’t forget the cake in the oven. It’s gonna burn!”

Nate froze, his fork clattering against his plate. He shot up from his chair and hurried into the kitchen. The kids and Alexia exchanged looks as they listened to him fling open the oven door. A moment later, Nate returned, holding a perfectly golden cake. He set it on the counter, but instead of reaching for the knife, he hesitated, staring down at it.

“How did you know I was baking this?” His voice was sharp, suspicious. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

Kyan’s big green eyes darted nervously, searching for an answer. Before she could stammer out something that would give them away, Ryan spoke smoothly. “We could smell it. It’s kinda obvious, Father.”

Nate blinked, then exhaled and shrugged. “Guess I’m not as sneaky as I thought.”

He iced the cake quickly and cut thick slices for everyone. The sweetness of the warm dessert filled the room, the tension breaking just a little. For a brief while, the family sat together, laughing softly and finishing their plates.

Once the cake was gone, Ryan wiped his face clean and Kyan mimicked him, though she still had crumbs clinging to her lips. They stood, said their goodnights, and began heading to their rooms.

But Kyan stopped halfway up the stairs, her tiny hands gripping the railing. She turned back, her wide green eyes locking onto Alexia. “Mommy,” she asked softly, “will you tuck us in tonight?”

Alexia blinked, stunned by the word. She hadn’t expected it to come so easily, not so soon. For a long moment she hesitated, her gaze flicking toward Nate, almost asking for silent permission. But then she softened, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “Of course.”

She followed the children upstairs, her footsteps quiet against the wooden floor. In their shared room, she pulled the blanket over Kyan first, then Ryan, brushing their hair back from their foreheads. Her hands lingered just long enough to give comfort before she leaned down and kissed them both gently on the brow.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

From the doorway, Nate watched in silence. His arms were folded loosely, his expression unreadable at first. But then, as Alexia stood from the bedside and glanced toward him, he let out a slow breath. For the first time in a long time, a thought crossed his mind that made his chest ache.

Maybe this will work out after all.

The table had long been cleared, the children tucked safely into bed. The only light in the dining room came from the soft glow of a single lamp near the counter, casting faint shadows across the walls. Nate sat at the table, posture straight, his sleeves rolled up, a notebook open in front of him filled with neatly written points. Alexia sat across from him, one leg folded beneath her, wine glass in hand, already looking exasperated.

“Alright,” Nate said evenly, tapping the page with the end of his pen. “Let’s run through it again. How did we meet?”

Alexia groaned dramatically, tossing her head back against the chair. “Year and a half ago, love at first sight, couldn’t keep our eyes off each other. Honestly, if I say that line one more time, I’m going to vomit.”

“Get used to it,” Nate replied curtly. “The headmaster will expect consistency. Now—similar interests we share?”

“Reading and—” Alexia paused, waving her wine glass in the air. “Cooking. And children, obviously. Love kids, can’t get enough of ’em.” She smirked behind the rim of her glass.

Nate gave her one of his sharp looks, the kind that could silence a room. “This isn’t a joke, Alexia. If they see even the slightest hole in our story, it’s over.”

Alexia rubbed her temples with her free hand and muttered, “So much information, not enough wine.” She tipped the rest of the glass back in one long gulp.

Nate pressed his lips into a thin line, suppressing the urge to comment on her carelessness. “You need to focus. This school doesn’t just test the children, it tests the family. Everything about us must appear seamless. Perfect.”

She leaned back in her chair, studying him, eyes narrowed. “Why?”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Why what?”

“Why is it so important for them to get into this school?” she asked, voice quieter now but sharper, cutting through his calm veneer.

Nate tightened his jaw. He hadn’t expected the question—not from her. He stalled for half a heartbeat, forcing an explanation out before suspicion could creep in. “Because it was my late wife’s wish.” His voice dropped lower, steadier. “She wanted them at Star Academy. Said it would secure their future.”

Alexia blinked, guilt pricking her chest. She hadn’t meant to touch a nerve. She gave a small nod, setting her empty glass down. “I didn’t mean to sound like an ass. Just… curious.”

There was a pause. She hesitated, then asked softly, “If you don’t mind me asking… what was she like?”

Nate froze for a fraction of a second. His mind raced—damn it, he hadn’t accounted for this. Quickly, he composed himself, expression smooth, voice even. “She was quiet,” he said carefully. “Kind. She followed the rules. Never questioned anything. A… perfect wife.”

Alexia studied him, reading the rigid lines of his face, the tightness in his jaw. Something about the way he said it didn’t feel like grief—it felt like performance. Still, she gave a short nod, not pushing further. “Well,” she said after a moment, leaning forward with a crooked smile. “I’ll do my best to fill those shoes.”

Nate’s eyes lingered on her for a beat too long before he glanced down at his notes again, clearing his throat. “Let’s continue.”

But for the first time that night, his focus was fractured.

The following afternoon, Nate found himself doing something he hadn’t done in years—dressing for family photos. The appointment had been Alexia’s idea, arguing that the Academy would expect a picture-perfect household to accompany the application. He had agreed, albeit reluctantly.

It was supposed to be simple: a few shots for the Academy files, smiles all around, and then done. But as soon as the camera flashed the first test shot, Ryan elbowed Kyan in the ribs, prompting Kyan to yelp and burst into tears.

“You’re such a meanie!” Kyan wailed, rubbing she side dramatically.

Ryan crossed his arms, unbothered. “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop fidgeting.”

Alexia pressed a hand over her mouth, giggling as she tried to calm Kyan, who now sniffled miserably. “Alright, kids, enough. Come here.” She crouched down, pulling Kyan against her hip and smoothing her hair.

Meanwhile, Nate pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly. “This is not what we need right now.” His tone was flat, patient but edged, as though he were talking himself down from losing it.

The photographer—an older man with a camera nearly as big as his head—gave a nervous chuckle. “Happens more than you’d think. Families are… spirited.”

Spirited. That was one word for it.

It took nearly twenty minutes of coaxing, bribery with the promise of ice cream, and Alexia whispering jokes into the twins’ ears, but eventually they settled. At last, the chaos melted into a few usable shots. One of Ryan and Kyan sitting shoulder to shoulder, smiling crookedly but genuinely. Another with Alexia and the kids, her arms wrapped warmly around them. Then one with Nate and the twins, his hands resting on their shoulders in a rare but steady show of tenderness.

Finally, they lined up for the full “family” photo. Nate stood slightly behind Alexia, the twins front and center, Alexia leaning in just enough to make it look believable.

And then came the last request—the photographer asked for a picture of just the two adults.

Alexia hesitated, then moved closer to Nate. She rested her hand lightly on his chest, her body angled toward him. Nate placed his hand at her waist. It was supposed to be mechanical, rehearsed, another piece of the act.

But then she looked up at him.

For a brief, startling moment, their eyes locked and the room faded. The laughter, the clicking of the camera, even the restless shifting of the twins disappeared into a silence that hummed between them. Something shifted in that silence—an unexpected flicker of warmth, curiosity, something neither of them had anticipated.

Alexia’s lips parted just slightly, her gaze softening. Nate’s jaw tensed, not from calculation this time, but because he caught himself noticing how the light made her eyes glint, how her smile, even restrained, was devastating, how her lips looked softer than he’d ever realized.

The flash went off.

Behind them, the twins dissolved into muffled giggles. Ryan, holding his stomach, blurted out, “Father’s thinking about kissing her!”

Kyan joined in, making exaggerated kissy noises.

Nate cleared his throat sharply, stepping back as if the contact had burned. Alexia’s hand fell from his chest in the same instant. Both of them turned their attention firmly away from each other, expressions carefully neutral.

“That should be good,” Nate said briskly, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.

“Yeah,” Alexia agreed quickly, reaching for her purse as though the moment had never happened.

But neither of them could shake the image burned in their minds—the split second where pretending had almost stopped feeling like a lie.