The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 403

Mia's POV

Voices woke me.

Not loud, exactly. Kids. Laughing. That particular pitch of childhood excitement that could cut through concrete walls, steel doors.

And underneath it all—Gas barking. That deep, enthusiastic woof-woof-woof that said something .

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

The same ceiling I'd been staring at for four years. And my clock said 11:47.

I'd slept for almost three hours. I sat up slowly, my body protesting every movement. My head felt thick. Stuffed with cotton. That particular heaviness that came from crying too hard and sleeping too fast, like my brain had turned into oatmeal and was sloshing around in my skull.

The voices were getting louder outside my door, building to a crescendo of childish chaos.

"Mama! Mama you have to come see!" Alexander's voice, breathless with urgency.

"Right now!" Ethan added, slightly calmer but still insistent.

My door burst open with the kind of dramatic force that suggested someone had been watching too many action movies.

Alexander stood there, his face flushed pink with excitement. His eyes were bright. Too bright.

Based on my experience with five-year-olds, it was probably the disaster.

"What?" I asked, my voice coming out scratchy and rough. "What happened?"

"Gas!" Alexander practically bounced on his toes. "Something happened with Gas!"

My heart jumped straight into my throat. That instant panic every parent knows. "Is he hurt?"

"No!" Alexander shook his head so vigorously his entire body wobbled. "But—just come! You have to see!"

I swung my legs out of bed. I followed Alexander out into the hallway.

Oh, Gas.

The dog was sprawled on the floor in the middle of the living room, panting like he'd just run a marathon. His tongue hung out of his mouth at a comical angle. His entire body heaved with each breath, his fur ruffled and sticking up in seventeen different directions.

He looked like he'd been through a war.

Or a very enthusiastic romantic encounter.

"What happened?" I asked, moving into the room.

The energy shifted immediately. Three pairs of eyes turned to me. Plus Kyle's. Plus my mother's from the kitchen doorway, where she'd appeared with a coffee cup in hand.

"We were at the park," Ethan said.

"And?" I prompted, crouching down beside Gas. The dog's tail gave a weak thump against the floor. His eyes rolled toward me with an expression that I could only describe as Mom, I've made some choices.

"And another dog came," Alexander continued, his hands gesturing wildly in the air. Making shapes that were completely unhelpful in conveying any actual information. "A boy dog. A BIG one. Like THIS big!" He stretched his arms out wide. "Maybe even bigger than that! Like a horse-dog!"

"A horse-dog," I repeated flatly.

"And he started chasing Gas," Ethan added, taking over the narrative before Alexander could spiral into describing mythical dog-horse hybrids.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no no.

"Chasing her how?" I asked, though I had a horrible suspicion I already knew the answer.

"Like—" Alexander made another gesture with his hands. Vague. Enthusiastic. Completely useless. "Like really, REALLY interested? Like Gas was the most interesting thing that had ever existed in the entire history of the world? "

Oh God.

"The other dog kept following Gas everywhere," Madison said quietly, her small voice cutting through Alexander's dramatic explanation. "Even when Gas tried to run away. Even when we called him."

"How long?" I asked. My voice came out strangled. "How long were they—how long was the other dog chasing Gas?"

"Maybe five minutes?" Ethan said, frowning as he calculated. "We tried to get Gas to come back but he kept running and the other dog kept chasing and they went around the trees and through the fountain area and—"

"Where was Kyle during this?" I interrupted, looking at Kyle.

Kyle was pale. Paler than before, which was saying something considering he usually looked like a very attractive ghost these days.

"I was—" He cleared his throat. "We were playing frisbee. On the other side of the field. I didn't see until—"

"Until the lady with the other dog started yelling," Madison finished quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "She was trying to get her dog back. But he wouldn't listen. He really, really liked Gas."

I closed my eyes.

Breathed in. Breathed out.

Opened my eyes.

Gas was still panting on the floor, looking simultaneously exhausted and somehow pleased with himself. That particular look dogs get when they've done something instinctually satisfying even if it's going to cause their humans massive problems.

"Is Gas okay? Why is she panting like that? "Alexander's voice was small now. Worried.

I opened my eyes and looked at my son. At his worried face. At his small hands twisting together.

"Gas' probably just tired from running," I managed, which was both true and a spectacular understatement.

"But why was that dog so interested in him?" Alexander pressed.

"Inappropriately persistent," I repeated. Of course. Of course this happened.

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