It had been over ten minutes since Zayne and his mother stepped away.
I sat on the floor of the twins' room, toys scattered around me while the kids built an extremely unstable tower of blocks nearby. A few of their things— favorite stuffed animals, sketchpads, and puzzles lay open across the bed as I tried to finish unpacking. Their tiny clothes were folded in piles, waiting to be organized into the drawers.
But my mind wasn't on the clothes.
It was on the way Zayne's mother looked at me before they disappeared down the hallway. No words, no sharp expressions, just that moment of silence, and something cold that passed behind her eyes. I tried to brush it off, but it left a chill in my spine.
And it hadn't gone away.
I set down one of Zia's little hoodies and stood up, brushing off my jeans. "I'll be right back," I said to the kids.
"Okay!" Zeal called from inside the tent, his head peeking out. "Can we have a snack after?"
"Sure," I smiled, then stepped out quietly.
The hallway was still, the soft sound of the twins playing fading behind me as I padded toward the staircase. I moved slowly, trying not to overthink things. Maybe they were just catching up. Maybe I was just anxious for no reason.
Still, when I reached the top of the stairs, I paused. Their voices drifted up from somewhere near the sitting room, low but clear.
I knew it was wrong. I knew I should go back upstairs and mind my business. But the unease in my chest only tightened.
I crept down one step, then another, careful not to let the wood creak. I stopped where the railing curved and leaned against the wall, just out of sight.
"…your grandmother would never accept her," his mother was saying, her voice tight with restraint.
There was a beat of silence before Zayne answered. "Since when have I cared what she says?"
I leaned in closer before I could stop myself. My heart beat louder in my ears.
His mother sighed, frustrated. "What about Charlotte?"
I froze. Who's Charlotte?
"There's nothing about Charlotte, Mother. Absolutely nothing."
"What do you mean there's nothing?" she demanded. "Your grandmother wanted you to marry her. And now you go behind our backs and marry someone else?"
"I told you," Zayne said, quieter this time, but firmer. "I don't care what she thinks."
"Well, you have to," his mother snapped. The words came too fast, too sharp. Then she caught herself, lowering her voice again. "This girl, she… she must be lovely, I know, but she doesn't fit in our world, Zayne. Why can't you see that?"
"She's the mother of my children," he said. "Where else would she fit, if not with me?"
"How do you even know they're your kids?" she asked, and her voice wavered. "She could be trapping you for all we—"
"Enough!" Zayne's voice rang out, louder than I'd ever heard it. Not angry, exactly. Just final. "You can't stand here and tell me you don't see the resemblance. They're one hundred percent mine and I have no doubts about it... Lia isn't that kind of woman."
My hands curled into fists at my sides. Something heavy settled in my chest, and I didn't want to hear another word.
I turned away quietly and made my way back down the hall.
By the time I stepped back into the twins' room, I wasn't sure what expression I had on my face. But Zayne walked in a few seconds later, and I saw the shift in his eyes the moment he looked at me.
He stopped by the door. "My mom wants to meet the kids."
I nodded and called out gently, "Zia, Zeal, Daddy's mommy is here. Do you want to come say hello?"
The twins looked at each other. Zia raised an eyebrow. Zeal tilted his head like it was a quiz question. Then they scrambled to their feet and ran to the door.
Zayne stepped aside for them to pass, but didn't move just yet. He looked at me again. "Are you okay?"
I forced a smile. "Yeah. Just tired."
He didn't look like he believed me, but he didn't press. We walked together down the hall, toward the front sitting room where his mother now stood, composed and smiling.
"Lai," Zaybe turned to me, "This is my mother Laurel. Mother, this is Lia, my wife." The way he made emphasis on the emphasis on the last word sounded like a silent threat to his mother. And judging by the look on her face, it worked.
"Well," Laurel smiled, "lovely to meet you Lia."
"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, ma'am." I smiled.
She waved her hand at me, "Please, call me Laurel."
I nodded.
She straightened as the kids walked in, her posture somehow softening. "Well," she said with a warmer tone than earlier, "you must be Zia and Zeal."
They hesitated, standing behind my legs again like they had earlier with the staff.
Zayne crouched beside them. "It's okay. This is your grandma."
Their eyes widened.
"Our grandma?" Zeal asked, his voice small.
"Yes," Zayne nodded.
Zia frowned. "So… you're Daddy's mommy?"
His mother blinked, then let out a quiet laugh. "Yes. That's right."
The kids were still cautious, but curiosity won out. Zeal stepped forward and tilted his head. "Do you have snacks?"
"Zeal," I whispered, but his grandmother laughed again.
"I think I can find something next time," she said.
Zia looked at her a little longer. "You don't look like Daddy."
"I suppose I don't," she smiled. "He looks like his daddy."
"Grandpa?" Zia asked quietly, as if unsure she was making a mistake.
Laurel nodded and smiled, "Yes, granpa."
We stood like that for a while— awkward and strange. Like trying to fold two puzzle pieces together that didn't quite match.
Then I asked, "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
She looked at me, something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Oh, I wish I could. But I'm in a hurry today. I just wanted to stop by and say hello."
I nodded politely. "Of course. Maybe next time."
She said her goodbyes a few minutes later, kissing the kids on the cheek when they finally let her, offering me another polite smile. She didn't say anything else to me—not directly.
We walked her to the door, and Zayne stood beside me as her car pulled out of the driveway.
I didn't say anything. I just stood there, arms crossed, watching the sleek black vehicle disappear around the bend.
But the feeling didn't leave me.
There was something in the way she looked at me. Something in the way she didn't say what she was really thinking.
And as the gates closed slowly behind her, I couldn't help the weight that settled back into my chest.
Unsettled. That's what I felt.
And I had the sinking feeling this was only the beginning.