The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 368

Chapter 368 Fix it

Mia’s POV

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“Don’t say that,” I whispered, my voice breaking on the words. The tears came faster now. “Don’t talk about someday.”

Kyle’s eyes softened, but I could see the resignation there.

“Mia-”

“No.” I leaned forward. “I believe in exceptions. I believe in miracles. You won’t convince me.”

The afternoon light shifted through the hospital blinds, casting moving patterns across Kyle’s face. He looked younger when he smiled, the sharp edges of illness softening that reminded me of all those years.

“I love your optimism,” he said gently, his free hand reaching up to catch a tear that had escaped down my cheek. “But this isn’t a fairy tale.”

His thumb traced across my cheekbone with the careful tenderness of someone memorizing a texture. “My immune system is eating me alive from the inside out.”

I could taste salt on my lips, but I didn’t care. “Then find new doctors. New treatments.”

“Mia, they all said the same thing.”

“Then they’re wrong. Sometimes doctors are wrong.

Kyle studied my face and just smiled.

11

The sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway grew louder.

“But it was flying perfect yesterday!” Alexander’s voice carried the particular outrage of someone whose favorite toy had betrayed him. “I followed all the instructions! I read the manual!”

“Reading the manual doesn’t make you magic, Alexander,” came Ethan’s patient reply. “Sometimes things just break.”

“Maybe we can ask the nurses if they know how to fix drones,” Madison suggested in her soft voice. Nurses know how to fix lots of things.‘

The door burst open, and three small figures tumbled into the room. Alexander led the charge, his arms full of what appeared to be sophisticated electronic equipment in various stages of disassembly.

“Kyle!” Alexander announced breathlessly, as if he’d discovered something miraculous. “My drone is broken and I don’t know what to do!”

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He deposited the pieces of his drone on Kyle’s bedside table with the careful reverence of someone handling precious artifacts, then stepped back.

“I was flying it in the hallway,” Alexander continued, “and it was doing all these cool flips and turns, just like in the instruction video, but then it made this weird noise and one of the rotors stopped spinning and it crashed into Mrs. Henderson’s flower arrangement.”

Ethan appeared at Alexander’s elbow. “Mrs. Henderson wasn’t mad,” he added diplomatically. “She said accidents happen.”

Madison lingered near the doorway, her backpack slung over one shoulder and her art supplies clutched against her chest. She offered Kyle a small wave that seemed to encompass both greeting and apology for the interruption.

“Let’s have a look,” Kyle said. “Can you show me exactly what happened?”

My son brightened immediately, launching into a detailed explanation that involved sound effects and hand gestures that somehow managed to convey the drone’s tragic flight path and ultimate demise.

“And then it went WHIRRRR–click–THUD,” Alexander concluded. “Right into the daisies.” “That’s quite a story,” Kyle said solemnly, reaching for the largest piece of the drone. “May I?” Alexander nodded eagerly, then surprised me by pulling out the drone’s manual from his back pocket. The booklet was wrinkled and worn, with pages marked by small fingerprints and what appeared to be chocolate stains. I never expected that Alexander had been carrying it with him.

“I tried to follow the troubleshooting steps,” Alexander explained, opening the manual to a page covered with small diagrams and arrows. “But the words are really big and some of them don’t make

sense.”

Kyle accepted the manual, flipping through pages, “This is a very good manual,” he said approvingly. “And these notes in the margins–did you write these?”

Alexander flushed with pride. “I wrote down the important parts. Like the part about checking the battery connections and the part about recalibrating the gyroscope.”

“Gyroscope,” Kyle repeated, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “That’s impressive vocabulary for someone your age.”

“Ethan taught me,” Alexander said. “He reads the hard words and explains them to me.”

Ethan stepped closer to the bed, his dark eyes fixed on Kyle’s hands as they moved over the drone’s components with gentle precision. “The instruction manual says it’s usually the connection between the motor and the control board,” he said quietly. “But we couldn’t figure out how to take it apart

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without breaking something else.”

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“That’s very smart troubleshooting,” he said. “Would you like me to show you how to safely disassemble the motor housing?”

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