The Unwanted Wife and Her Secret Twins (Mia and Kyle) novel Chapter 415

Mia's POV

"Better?" Kyle asked.

His voice was low. Rough.

His hands were still on my waist. Warm through the thin fabric of my dress. I could feel each individual finger. And the pressure.

Just for a second, they lingered. His thumbs pressed gently against my ribcage. Not pulling me closer. Not pushing me away. Just—holding.

Then they dropped.

"Much better," I said.

My voice came out quieter than I meant it to. Softer. Like something had shifted in my throat without permission.

Kyle bent down and picked up both shoes. My ridiculous heels that cost too much and hurt too much.

He held them in one hand, the straps tangled together, dangling from his fingers.

"I'll carry these," he said.

We kept walking.

The path curved ahead of us, white marble glowing pale in the dark. On either side, the gardens stretched out. More manicured perfection. More expensive landscaping. Hedges shaped into geometric patterns. Flowers that probably had long Latin names.

The sounds of the party drifted across the space between us and them. Laughter that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere. Music with bass so deep I could feel it in my chest even from here. Splashing from the pool. Voices rising and falling like waves.

All of it distant now. Muted. Like it was happening to someone else. Like Kyle and I had stepped through some invisible barrier into a different world where sound worked differently.

My bare feet made small sounds on the marble. Soft padding. The stone was cool but not cold. Smooth. Someone probably power-washed this path every morning. Probably had a whole team dedicated to maintaining these gardens. To making sure every pebble was in place. Every leaf uncrumpled.

I could hear Kyle's breathing beside me. That rough sound his lungs made now. Not terrible. Not the wheezing that came when he overexerted. Just a reminder that every breath took effort.

My own breathing felt tight. But not from exertion. From something else. Something that sat in my chest and pressed against my ribs.

"I'm tired," I said.

The words came out before I could stop them. Before I could think about what they meant. What I was admitting.

"I know." His voice was gentle.

"No. I mean—" I stopped walking. Turned to face him.

I stopped again.

"I know," he said again.

Kyle's hand found my elbow. His fingers wrapped around it.

"Sit," he said.

It wasn't a suggestion. It was an instruction. Gentle but firm.

There was a bench. White stone—marble, probably, because everything here was marble. Curved back. Wide seat. Positioned perfectly to look out over the gardens toward the distant glow of the party.

I sat. The stone was cool under my thighs even through my dress.

Kyle sat beside me. He set my shoes down on the ground beside the bench. Careful. Like they mattered more than they did.

I leaned back against the stone. Let my spine curve into it. Let my head tilt up toward the sky.

The stars.

God, the stars.

The sky was clear. Completely clear. Not a cloud anywhere. Stars visible despite all the lights from the venue. Thousands of them.

These stars were bright. Sharp. Like someone had punched holes in black velvet and light was pouring through from the other side.

I'd forgotten. Somehow I'd forgotten what stars looked like when you could actually see them.

"I forgot stars looked like this," I said. My voice sounded far away. Dreamy.

"Like what?"

"Like something that matters."

Kyle was quiet. Just sat there beside me. His face tilted up too.

Both of us looking at the same sky. Seeing the same impossible distance.

My eyes felt heavy. That particular heaviness that came from too much work and too little sleep and whiskey hitting an empty stomach and making everything feel soft around the edges. My eyelids wanted to close. Kept trying to close. I forced them open.

Blinked. Hard.

Once. Trying to clear the blur.

Twice. Trying to stay present.

My whole body felt like it was made of sand. Heavy. Loose. Ready to collapse.

My head tilted and suddenly my head was resting against something solid.

It's Kyle's shoulder. The fabric of his jacket was soft against my cheek. I could smell him. That particular scent that was just Kyle. Soap. Something woodsy.

I was so tired.

So impossibly tired.

"Just for a minute," I mumbled into his jacket.

The words slurred slightly. Sleep pulling at them.

Kyle's hand came up. Slowly. Carefully. Like he was afraid sudden movement would startle me.

His fingers touched my hair. Just the lightest brush. His palm cupped the side of my head. Gentle. Cradling.

Not pulling me closer. Not pushing me away. Just—holding. Like my head was something precious. Something that needed protecting.

"Okay," he said quietly. His voice rumbled through his chest. I could feel it against my cheek. "Just for a minute."

His thumb moved. Just once. A small stroke against my temple. There and gone so fast I might have imagined it.

The stars blurred above us.

Not disappearing. Just softening around the edges. Bleeding into each other. Like everything was turning into watercolors. Like reality was becoming something gentler.

I closed my eyes.

Just for a minute.

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