The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 389

Chapter 389 Room 847

Mia’s POV

The burnt pancake sat on my plate, black on one side.

Alexander had already moved on to other concerns. “Mama, if we’re going to see Kyle today, can I bring my drone? I want to show him how I fixed the propeller by myself.”

“We’re not bringing the drone to a hospital again.”

“Why not?”

“Because hospitals have rules about electronics.”

“That’s a stupid rule.”

“Alexander.”

“Sorry. That’s a silly rule.”

Madison looked up from her pancake, which she’d been cutting into increasingly smaller pieces without actually eating much of it. “Are we really going to see Kyle today?”

“Yes. At two o’clock.”

“Why two o’clock?” Ethan asked.

“Because that’s when the doctor can see him.”

“What kind of doctor?”

I hesitated. How did you explain to a five-year-old that we were taking their dying father to see a Tibetan healer because Western medicine had given up?

“A special doctor,” I said finally. “Someone who knows about different ways to help sick people.”

“Like a wizard?” Alexander asked, perking up.

“Not exactly like a wizard.”

“But kind of like a wizard?”

“More like… a doctor who studied different kinds of medicine. Medicine from other countries.”

Madison’s gray eyes were fixed on my face. “Will the different medicine make Kyle better?”

“I don’t know, sweetheart.”

“But it might?”

“It might.”

She nodded slowly, accepting this. Then she picked up her fork and actually ate a piece of pancake.

Progress.

The morning passed in the strange slow-fast way mornings did when you were watching the clock. Too many minutes until you needed to leave, then suddenly not enough time to get three children dressed and fed and cleaned up and out the door.

Alexander wanted to wear his Superman shirt because “Kyle needs to see that we believe in heroes.”

Ethan wanted to wear his button-down shirt because “hospitals are serious places.”

Madison couldn’t decide between her blue dress with the flowers or her pink dress with the butterflies, so she stood in the middle of her room holding both hangers and looking like she might cry.

“The blue one,” I said gently. “It matches your eyes.

“But the pink one is prettier.”

“They’re both pretty. But we need to pick one.”

“Okay.” She set down the pink dress with visible reluctance. “Blue.”

Gas followed us from room to room, his tail wagging with the optimism of a dog who thought all this activity meant he was coming too.

“Sorry, buddy,” I told him, scratching behind his ears. “You have to stay home today.”

His tail drooped.

“I know. Life is unfair. You can sulk on the couch and we’ll bring you treats when we get back.”

This seemed to satisfy him. He trotted to the couch and settled into his favorite corner with a long- suffering sigh.

By the time we were ready to leave, it was already one-thirty.

“Coats,” I said.

“It’s not that cold,” Alexander protested.

“Coats.”

“But Mama-”

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