The billionaire’s lost wife

Reflections

I’d been awake since 4:30, not by choice. My mind refused to rest, chasing fragments of dreams that made no sense but left my chest tight. I swung my legs off the bed, toes cold against the wooden floor, and padded to the studio. The smell of turpentine and oil paint hit me immediately, sharp and grounding. My brushes and canvases were waiting, patient and unjudging, like old friends who knew everything but never spoke.

The twins were still asleep, curled together, chests rising and falling in perfect rhythm. I tiptoed past them, careful not to disturb their peace, though I smiled quietly. Soon enough, they’d be up, full of questions, small demands, tiny chaos I loved more than I would ever admit aloud. For now, though, the apartment was mine. The stillness hummed like a soft lullaby.

I set up a canvas, squeezed out colors, and let the brush move freely. Streaks of deep blue, ochre, and soft green ran across the surface in uneven lines. Painting had always been my way to organize the chaos inside, to make sense of life when words weren’t enough. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it didn’t. But the act of moving the brush, of seeing color take shape under my fingers it was enough.

A memory slipped through, sudden and warm: college mornings in the library, the smell of old books and faint coffee, and him leaning just slightly toward me, hand brushing mine as though testing the world. His impatient grin, his stubborn brilliance, and the way his eyes always found mine… I could feel it now. The tightness in my chest eased slightly, almost a pang of longing.

“Emily?” Sophie’s cheerful voice floated through the door, pulling me back.

Relief washed over me. “Come in, Sophie. Don’t startle me like that.”

She stepped inside, arms full of shopping bags, eyes bright as sunlight. “Morning! I brought snacks for the kids and a few things for your studio. Thought I could help a little today.”

I gestured toward the table. “You’re a lifesaver.”

Sophie set the bags down, humming softly as she organized paints and brushes. Her energy was effortless, warm, familiar. I let myself watch her for a moment, letting the comfort settle over me.

The twins were stirring, murmuring and stretching in their cribs. Leo yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes, while Ella clutched her pink bunny and blinked sleepily at the morning light.

“Good morning, mama!” Leo called, hopping off his bed and racing to the hall.

Ella followed more slowly, tugging at my sleeve. “Morning…”

I laughed and ruffled Leo’s hair. “Come on, sleepyheads. Time to get ready for the day.”

Breakfast was the usual organized chaos: pancakes, scrambled eggs, orange juice, and arguments over who got the last slice. I kept my patience like armor, letting them hash it out while I poured coffee, steam curling up in the cool morning air. I smiled quietly, watching them. Their stubbornness reminded me faintly of Nathaniel back then. Only now, their stubbornness was mine to guide, mine to shape, and somehow that made it sweeter.

After breakfast, I tidied up the kitchen, washed dishes, and helped the twins get dressed. Leo insisted on wearing his superhero shirt, Ella demanded her pink shoes, and I let them have it they needed to feel small victories in a world that sometimes felt unpredictable. Sophie lingered, helping organize toys, chatting softly, reminding me that not all ties to the past were heavy burdens.

By mid morning, the apartment quieted. I decided it was time to run errands: groceries, milk, eggs, a few essentials. I bundled the twins into the stroller and headed down the sunlit streets of Willow Creek a quiet, river-adjacent town with cobblestone streets and little cafés that smelled like roasted coffee beans.

“Donuts?” Leo asked suddenly, eyes wide as we passed a shop with pink-and-white striped awnings.

Ella tugged at my sleeve. “Please, mama?”

I laughed softly. “Alright, one small detour.”

Inside, Mr. Higgins, the owner, waved at me with a wide grin. “Back for your favorites, Emily?”

“You know us too well,” I replied. The twins grabbed chocolate glazed donuts and sprinkles, squealing with delight. Mr. Higgins handed me a small paper bag. “On the house today, for Emily Dawson.”

“You don’t have to Mr. Higg…”

“Don’t even say it “ he warned sternly

I chuckled, gratitude warming me. “You’re too kind, Mr. Higgins.”

Once we left the shop, the twins happily munching donuts, I continued to the grocery store. The sun was warm, the streets alive with morning bustle. As we crossed the sidewalk, I noticed a young couple ahead he held her hand gently, laughing at something she’d said, his eyes soft with affection. Their casual ease, the little shared glances, the way he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear it all hit me like a jolt.

A memory came rushing back. College nights, Nathaniel waiting outside my dorm, impatient but smiling. His hand brushing mine as we walked to the library, coffee cups in our hands. “I can’t wait to build a life with you, Emily,” he whispered once on a quiet evening, leaning close, eyes burning with certainty. “You’re the love of my life. I’m never going to leave you.”

I blinked, shaken by the rush of nostalgia. I could almost feel the warmth of his hand in mine, the soft tug of his coat as he led me through empty streets, our laughter mingling with the night air. The scent of books, coffee, and his cologne seemed to fill my senses.

The donuts in my bag reminded me sharply of reality. I bent down, brushing a stray crumb from Ella’s cheek. Life had moved on, for better or worse, and I had carved out a little world for the twins and me. It was ours. It was safe. It was enough…

We finished the groceries milk, eggs, bread, a few vegetables and headed home. Back at the apartment, I put away the groceries, settled the twins with juice and a small snack, and allowed myself a moment to breathe. The apartment smelled faintly of paint and baked sugar, quiet except for the twins’ chatter.

Then my phone buzzed. Daniel Wells.

I smiled immediately. “Hey, Danny,” I said, answering quickly.

“Emily! You’ll never guess where I am!” His voice was as jovial as ever.

“Where this time?” I laughed softly.

“Willow Creek,” he said casually, like it was nothing, like dropping into your life was ordinary. “And yes, I know…surprise! Thought I’d see how my favorite sister-of-sorts is doing, maybe meet these little ones everyone keeps talking about.”

“You’re…coming here?” I asked cautiously.

“Yup! Can’t let you holed up alone all the time. You know me.” His chuckle was warm and teasing.

I hesitated, swallowing. “Daniel…”

“Emily, I promise. Nothing changes with you and the twins. I just…want to see you. And them.”

I exhaled slowly, a mixture of relief and unease. Daniel had been the only person in that family I trusted fully. He had kept my secret carefully, and now he was coming to Willow Creek. To my world.

“Just…let me know when you’re in town, okay?” I said.

“I will. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

I hung up, feeling the weight of it settle over me. Daniel knew. Daniel remembered. Daniel had been the only one in that family I could trust. And yet…he was coming. To Willow Creek, to my life. To the calm I had built for the twins and me.

The twins’ laughter reminded me where my attention belonged. I picked up my brush, letting streaks of color move freely again. The smell of paint, the chaos of breakfast dishes, the sticky sweetness of donut crumbs—it all grounded me. Life went on, and I had built something solid, something I could protect.

But in the back of my mind, a small ripple had begun. And sooner or later, that ripple would reach Nathaniel.