The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 186: Who Am I to Refuse Him?

I didn’t answer right away.

The way he said Bern’s name, controlled but splintering at the edges made it sound like jealousy. Or maybe I was just too confused to properly name what I was seeing in him. Or maybe I was reading too much into the slight tightening of his jaw, the careful steadiness of his tone.

But one thing I was sure of.

It was hurt.

He was hurt.

And beneath that hurt, there was something dangerously close to regret.

"Why were you watching my house?" I asked instead.

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes something quick and guarded.

"Answer me, Sylvia."

"No," I shot back, my voice low but firm. "You don’t get to question me like that without explaining why you’ve been watching us."

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

"I wasn’t watching.." he said.

I raised an eyebrow.

He exhaled slowly. "Not like that."

"Then how, Rome?" I demanded. "Because you knew he was inside. You even knew his name. So tell me, how? Did you investigate him too?"

Silence stretched between us.

Finally, he ran a hand through his hair, frustration breaking through the composed exterior he’d been clinging to.

"I just wanted to see you were okay," he admitted. "And this is what I arrived to. Him. Inside your house."

My stomach dropped.

"You what? Why are you here?" I asked, disbelief coating every word.

Maybe I misheard him. Maybe I was misunderstanding everything. I didn’t want to think too deeply about it. I didn’t want to give meaning to the possibility that he had been watching us late at night.

"I wanted to see you. And the kids," he said quickly. "After everything that happened between us, I’ve had time to think. I was wrong about everything I did before.... I was shallow. Reckless. I let myself be carried away by decisions I didn’t fully understand. I tried to forget you all these years—without even knowing that we had...kids."

"W-what?" I repeated faintly, then let out a hollow, sarcastic laugh. "What the hell are you saying now?"

I didn’t even realize my hands had curled into fists until my nails dug into my palms.

Hearing Rome speak like that, like he truly regretted everything made me feel strangely numb. I should have felt something. Anger. Vindication. Pain.

But instead, I felt cold.

As if whatever part of me once reacted to him had frozen over long ago.

"What I’m saying is true," he said, his voice hardening. "It may sound like I’m lying. Like I’m trying to win you over so I can get close to the kids. But it’s all true. I regret my decisions. All of them. I don’t even know where I found the courage to live with myself after what I did..."

I stared at him, my thoughts racing.

"No," I said quietly. "You’re lying. I know you. You say things like this when you want something. You’re sorry because you want something from me, from my kids."

I stepped forward slightly, my voice turning sharp.

"Let me make this clear now, Rome. You won’t get anything. The kids are mine. Mine alone."

My voice was firm even though I could feel my hands trembling. I refused to let him see that weakness. I held his gaze without flinching.

I wasn’t being defensive.

I was protecting what was left of me.

Rome looked at me with something like shock, as if he hadn’t expected that response. But then his expression changed.

"I’m not trying to take our kids from you," he said. "Believe me, Sylvia."

"That doesn’t make me feel better," I whispered. "I don’t want to believe a man from my past anymore. It’s been years. We’ve both changed. I don’t know how I’m supposed to trust you again after everything that happened."

His shoulders tensed, then slowly lowered as if he was disappointed not in me, but in himself.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I expected that."

He sounded like he was speaking more to himself than to me.

"It’s been years since you left," he continued. "And I know where your doubt is coming from. I failed to protect you. I hurt you. I made decisions without thinking about the consequences. You probably still see me as the same man who couldn’t keep his promises. The same man who had the audacity to ask for forgiveness after marrying someone else."

He looked at me, and I could feel the weight in his eyes, like he was searching for something. A sign of softness. Of sympathy.

But I kept my expression cold.

I was afraid that if I showed even the smallest crack, everything I built to protect myself would collapse.

"You probably think I’m shameless," he continued. "Shameless for asking for your forgiveness. Shameless for wanting to see you and our kids after I chose to move on and marry someone else instead of looking for you when you left."

He paused and stepped forward instinctively.

I immediately stepped back.

He stopped.

"Right," he muttered bitterly. "I am shameless. I don’t deserve to ask for forgiveness. I don’t even deserve to see you. Or them."

He lowered his head briefly before looking back at me.

I looked away first.

Almost three minutes passed in silence. It felt heavy, thick with words neither of us knew how to say.

I exhaled slowly.

If we were already here, if the truth was already unraveling then I needed answers too.

There was one question that had haunted me for years.

If I ever saw him again, this was what I would ask.

"Then why?" I asked, forcing myself to look at him.

He swallowed.

"Why, Rome?" My voice cracked despite my effort to stay composed.

"You’re married. You should be happy with Ingrid. Why aren’t you focusing on her? On your child? I know you have a child together. So why are you here? Why are you coming to see my kids instead of giving your time to your own child?"

His Adam’s apple bobbed. For a split second, his gaze softened then hardened again.

"You might not believe me even if I said I didn’t love Ingrid. And the child you believe is mine isn’t my son. He’s Ingrid’s child from another man. Or, to tell the truth... he’s Greece’s son..." he said quietly.

I froze at what I heard. Greece’s son? That meant Ingrid cheated on him with his twin brother? I didn’t know whether to believe him or to sympathize with him. But knowing that didn’t make me feel better. It only gave me more reason not to let him near my kids.

"And... I never stopped loving you."

Rome’s next words were barely above a whisper.

But they were enough to send my thoughts into chaos.

"W-what?"

The room suddenly felt still.

Even the air seemed suspended between us.

Rome’s chest rose and fell heavily, like he hadn’t meant to say it. Like the confession had forced its way out of him.

"I married her because I thought it was the right thing to do," he continued. "Because I couldn’t find you after you left. I made a stupid decision. I thought if I married someone else, you’d come back out of anger. Out of jealousy. I thought you’d show up and fight for me."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"But you never came back," he said, his voice cracking. "I waited for days. Then months. Then years. You never came back. And I started believing that maybe you were happier without me. Maybe you were with someone else. Maybe you cheated. Maybe you never loved me."

"H-happy? And c-cheated on you?" I repeated, stunned.

But he didn’t even react.

"I was angry," he continued bitterly. "Angry because I believed what my mother kept putting in my head—that you would leave me eventually. That you’d find someone who wouldn’t hurt you. Someone who wouldn’t drag you into my family’s mess."

"And now?" I asked slowly, my emotions tangled. "Now you’re telling me all this after doubting me? After not trusting me? You’re walking back into my life like nothing happened. Like forgiveness is easy."

I met his eyes.

"You think I’ll take you back just because you said that?"

He closed his eyes briefly.

"I’m not thinking about whether you’ll take me back," he said quietly. "Or whether you’ll forgive me. I just... couldn’t stay away."

I wrapped my arms around myself.

"So typical of you," I said bitterly. "You watch from a distance. You send help through your assistant. You stay hidden. And the moment another man steps into my house, you show up with flowers?"

The lilies in his hand suddenly looked absurd.

Desperate.

Like him.

He glanced down at them.

"I didn’t plan to come tonight," he said. "But when I saw him walk in—when I saw you smile at him—"

I inhaled shakily.

"Bern helped me raise Cairo," I said. "No. That’s not even accurate to say that. He raised Cairo."

Rome’s head snapped up.

"Cairo was very sickly when he was born," I continued, my throat tightening. "Bern is a doctor. When he learned about Cairo’s condition, he stayed. He helped me. He was there for him."

My voice trembled, but I forced myself to continue.

"He adopted Cairo legally when he was a baby. Because I couldn’t even look at my own son."

Rome went completely still.

"Cairo looks so much like you," I whispered. "And I was too weak. Too broken. I let Bern adopt him because I thought he could give him the life I couldn’t."

Shock flooded Rome’s face.

"He didn’t replace you," I said, tears burning my eyes. "There was nothing to replace. You weren’t there from the beginning. He filled a gap that both of us failed to fill. He’s the father who gave Cairo a stable life. And I don’t even feel like I deserve to call myself his mother."

The confession hit the room like a storm. It was something I had carried for years.

And of all people, he was the one hearing it.

Rome didn’t argue.

He just stood there, absorbing the weight of it.

"You shouldn’t feel sorry," he said quietly after a long pause. "If anyone should regret something, it’s me. None of this is your fault."

He looked broken.

"Do you want him?" he asked.

Despite looking shattered, he still asked.

And somehow, that hurt more.

I hesitated.

"I don’t know.." I admitted.

The truth felt dangerous.

"I care about him. He cares about Cairo. About the kids. But he’s not what you think he is to me. He’s someone who saved us. That’s all."

Rome flinched almost imperceptibly.

"But," I continued softly, "if he ever told me he loved me... who am I to refuse him?"