Chapter 14
677 Words
Lena’s POV
Okay. So.
I wasn’t planning to spiral about the whole “what if Mateo has a twin” thing. I really wasn’t. But once Callie said it out loud, it was like my brain had its own group chat with every possible worst-case scenario and just started blowing it up.
What if there was another baby? What if they were separated at birth? What if this envelope was a breadcrumb, and there were more out there, just waiting for me to find them?
I paced the kitchen while Mateo napped, drinking cold coffee and stress-eating peanut butter from the jar. Ethan was sitting at the table, typing something for his internship, headphones half on.
I wasn’t going to say anything. I really wasn’t.
But then I did.
“Do you think it’s possible Mateo has a twin?”
Ethan blinked. Slowly pulled off his headphones. “Like… a literal twin?”
I nodded, biting my thumbnail.
He stared at me for a second like he was trying to decide if I was joking. “Lena. That’s… dramatic. Even for you.”
“Okay but think about it,” I said, plopping down across from him. “The bracelet in the picture. It looked like a hospital tag. If it was him, and there was another baby born at the same time, and”
“And what?” Ethan cut in. “That someone kept the other baby and just… left Mateo for us?”
His voice wasn’t mean. It was just flat. Quiet. And that made me feel worse, for some reason.
I exhaled. “I don’t know. I just Callie mentioned it and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
He watched me for a second. Then did that thing where he raked his hand through his hair like he was about to say something important. But instead of that, he stood up and walked over to the fridge.
“Want a juice box?”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
“They’re the mango kind. Your favorite.”
I hated how that made me soften. I hated how he remembered stuff like that.
He tossed one at me. I caught it like we were on a sitcom. And when I poked the straw in, I realized I was still shaking a little.
“I just want to be prepared, you know?” I said. “In case she comes back. Or if this isn’t the end of the story.”
Ethan leaned back against the counter. His voice was low, but clear. “You’re a good mom.”
I looked up.
“You’re not crazy for thinking about this stuff,” he added. “Even if I think the twin theory sounds like a bad soap opera.”
“That’s rude.”
“I mean that in the nicest way.”
We smiled. Just barely. But it was something.
Then because apparently I’m allergic to silence I blurted, “You missed his first laugh.”
Ethan winced. “Don’t remind me.”
“It was cute. He squeaked. And then hiccuped. I think he was laughing at your hair.”
“That’s slander.”
“You were wearing a backwards hoodie like a cape. He was laughing at you, not with you.”
Ethan grinned. “At least he thinks I’m funny.”
I looked down at my juice box. “I think you’re funny.”
His smile faltered. For just a second. Then it came back, softer.
“Thanks.”
Something in the air shifted. That thing again. Like there were words hovering between us that neither of us wanted to say out loud.
He didn’t move. I didn’t either.
And then Mateo cried.
The moment shattered like a soap bubble. Ethan moved first. I followed. We found Mateo all flustered and sweaty in his swaddle, fists flailing like he was mid-argument with an invisible enemy.
I scooped him up, pressed my cheek to his soft little head, and let myself breathe again.
Ethan stood close. Too close. I didn’t move away.
- Writer
