The hospital room was a sterile haven, bathed in the soft, diffused light from the window overlooking the bustling town below, the Struma River winding like a silver thread in the distance under the afternoon sun. Machines beeped rhythmically in the background, a steady lullaby mingling with the faint cries of newborns from nearby rooms, the air scented with antiseptic and the fresh, powdery smell of the twins. Miko lay in the adjustable bed, propped up on pillows with the sheets tucked around her, looking exhausted but radiant, her hair slightly disheveled from the labor, golden eyes tired but filled with a profound joy as she cradled Caz in her arms while Ava nursed contentedly. The twins were tiny miracles— Caz with his tuft of dark hair and a cry like a demanding kitten, Ava with her sister's golden eyes and a softer coo that melted my heart every time. I'd been by her side since the birth, fetching ice chips, adjusting pillows, holding her hand through the afterpains, but now I needed a break—just a quick drink from the vending machine down the hall to steady my nerves.
"I'll be right back," I said, kissing Miko's forehead, inhaling her familiar lavender scent mixed with the hospital's clinical edge. "Water? Soda?"
She smiled weakly. "Water's fine. Don't take too long—these two might need their dad."
I nodded, stepping out into the brightly lit hallway, the linoleum floors squeaking under my shoes, the buzz of nurses' stations and rolling carts a constant hum. The vending machine was at the end of the corridor, its glowing display offering rows of colorful bottles and snacks. I fed in some coins, the clink echoing, and grabbed a cold water, twisting the cap with a satisfying crack. As I turned back, I saw Elena and Sylvia entering Miko's room, their voices carrying faintly—Elena's laugh, Sylvia's excited chatter. Good timing; they'd cheer her up.
Pushing the door open, I stepped in, bottle in hand. "Hey, you two—perfect visitors." But the room's atmosphere had shifted—tense, like a storm cloud had rolled in. Elena and Sylvia were by the bed, Elena looking a bit guilty with her head slightly down, Sylvia speechless, her fox wars stripping slightly as she avoided my gaze. Miko's expression was cold, her golden eyes locked on me like daggers, the joy from moments ago frozen over.
"Don't lie," Miko said, her voice icy and low, cutting through the room like a blade, her hand tightening on Caz's blanket. "Did you fuck Elena and Sylvia?"
The question hit like a punch, the air sucking out of the room. I froze in the doorway, water bottle halfway to my lips, glancing at Elena—her cheeks flushed, guilt written plain—and Sylvia, mouth open but no words coming, shock rendering her mute. The memories surged back unbidden: back in the states, when Miko had gone into hiding for those long, agonizing couple of months to evade hunters, leaving me alone in that dingy apartment, lonely and frayed. Elena had shown up one night, seductive and persistent, her touches igniting a fire I couldn't resist in my isolation. It escalated—Sylvia joining later, the three of us tangled in a haze of need and distraction. It was wrong, a betrayal born of weakness, but it happened.
I set the bottle down, stepping closer, voice steady but regretful. "Yes," I admitted, meeting Miko's gaze. "Back in the states, when you were hiding for those couple of months... I got lonely. Elena seduced me, and... it just kinda happened with both. I was weak. I'm sorry."
The room hung in silence, Elena shifting uncomfortably, Sylvia finding her voice to mutter, "It was a mistake... we were all scared back then."
Miko's eyes narrowed, but she nodded slowly, her cold demeanor cracking just a fraction. "I understand," she said, though her tone held an edge like sharpened steel. "Lonely happens. But when we get home... I'm going to ride you so hard you won't be able to even think about cheating anymore. And if it happens again—if you touch anyone else—I'll make sure you lose everything. The house, the twins, me. All of it."
I swallowed, the threat landing heavy. "Fair enough. I deserve that."
The visit shifted after—Elena and Sylvia cooing over the twins, holding Caz and Ava with gentle hands, the room filling with lighter talk of baby names and firsts. But the undercurrent lingered, Miko's words a promise hanging in the air.
A week later, after endless hospital checks and paperwork, I took Miko and the twins home—the van traded in quietly for a legal sedan with space for car seats, the new vehicle purring smoothly as we drove. The house welcomed us with open arms—the porch bathed in sunlight, wildflowers blooming in riotous colors. Miko rested on the couch with the babies, Caz fussing softly while Ava slept like an angel.
I headed to the bedroom—now nursery corner—starting to assemble the baby bed. The box was heavy, cardboard ripping as I unpacked parts: wooden slats, screws glinting in the light, instructions unfolding like a map. It took a good 30 minutes—cursing under my breath at tricky bolts, the allen wrench slipping once or twice—but finally, the crib stood sturdy, neutral gray with soft bedding tucked in, ready for the twins.
After dinner—a simple stew simmered slow with carrots and herbs, flavors rich and comforting—Akira crashed early, already sleeping in her bed upstairs, her snores faint through the walls. Miko and I dealt with the twins' cries—bouncing Caz to soothe his fussing, feeding Ava in the dim light of the lamp. "Maybe tomorrow we should at least go out," I suggested, rocking Caz in my arms, his tiny tail twitching. "Fresh air, see the river."
Miko nodded, yawning as she burped Ava. "Yeah... but first, sex. As a way for me to lose some weight—and get back to rough. I miss it."
Once the twins fell asleep in their new crib, their breaths tiny and even, we collapsed into bed, exhaustion claiming us immediately, Miko's head on my chest, our bodies entwined in peaceful surrender.