Chapter 23

Lawrence

When I stepped into the café that day, I never expected my entire world to shift. Seeing Camilla again after all these years was something I couldn't prepare for. The moment my eyes landed on her, a strange mixture of emotions coursed through me—relief, guilt, and a faint, unwelcome hope. 

She looked nervous, her fingers gripping the coffee mug so tightly I thought it might shatter. The sight of her vulnerability stirred something in me. What could be so urgent that she'd want to meet so urgently? "

"Camilla," I said, sliding into the seat across from her. "How are you?" 

She gave a strained smile, her voice shaky. "I'm fine. And you?" 

"I'm good," I replied, studying her face. There was something off, something heavy weighing on her. 

She took a deep breath, and before I could ask what was wrong, she blurted it out. "Lawrence, I didn't abort the babies." 

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I froze, my mind struggling to process what she had just said. 

"You… what?" I finally managed, my voice barely above a whisper. 

"They're alive," she said, her voice breaking. "You have two children—a boy and a girl. George and Mira." 

I leaned back in my chair, stunned. My hands gripped the edge of the table as I tried to steady myself. "Why are you telling me this now? Why did you keep them from me?" 

"Because George is sick," she said, tears streaming down her face. "He has leukemia and needs a bone marrow transplant. You might be his only chance." 

Leukemia. The word alone felt like a knife to the chest. My son—my son—was fighting for his life, and I hadn't even known he existed. Guilt consumed me, but there was no time for that now. 

"I want to help," I said immediately, reaching across the table. "And I want to meet them." 

She shook her head, pulling away from me. "Not yet. Let's take this one step at a time." 

"Camilla, please," I begged, desperation creeping into my voice. "Let me see them. Don't keep them away from me anymore." 

She looked at me, her eyes filled with anger and pain. "You wanted to kill them, Lawrence. Do you remember that? You told me to get rid of them. That's why I kept them a secret. I wasn't sure you wouldn't try to hurt them again." 

Her words cut deep, but I deserved them. "I'm sorry," I said, my voice breaking. "I was wrong. I was scared and selfish, but I'm not that man anymore. Please, let me make it right." 

"Please show up for the test, thanks for meeting me once again, I really hope you're a suitable donor, I'm out of time already" I said before leaving.

I nodded, standing as well. "Thank you, Camilla. I promise, I won't let you or them down." 

---

A week later, the doctor called with the results. I was a match. Relief washed over me, and for the first time in years, I felt like I could do something good, something right. 

The surgery was scheduled for a month later, but George needed to be admitted to the hospital for preparation. It was through my friend Dr. Jenkins, a pediatric specialist, that I learned Camilla had already brought the children in. 

"They're here," Dr. Jenkins told me during a routine check-in. "Your son and daughter, remember you asked me to keep an eye out. I saw them earlier today in the pediatric ward." 

Hearing those words sent a thrill through me. My children were in the same building, and I couldn't resist the urge to see them. I had stayed away because Camilla needed time, but this was different. 

---

When I walked into George's hospital room for the first time, my heart stopped. He was sitting on the bed, pale but smiling, while his sister Mira sat beside him, holding his hand. 

They were perfect. 

"Hello," I said softly, stepping into the room. 

Both of them looked up, their big, curious eyes studying me. 

"Who are you?" Mira asked, tilting her head. 

I knelt down, my voice catching. "I'm… I'm your father." 

Their eyes widened in unison. George blinked, as if trying to process my words, while Mira grinned. "Really? You're our daddy?" 

"Yes," I said, nodding. "And I'm so sorry I wasn't there before. But I'm here now, and I'm going to make it up to you." 

Mira threw her arms around my neck, her laughter filling the room. "I always wanted to meet you!" 

George smiled shyly but didn't say anything. I could see the fatigue in his eyes, but there was also a spark of curiosity. 

"I brought you something," I said, pulling out the bags I had brought with me. Inside were toys, books, and snacks—anything I thought might bring a little joy to their day. 

"Whoa!" Mira exclaimed, diving into the bag. "Thank you, Daddy!" 

George smiled, his voice soft. "Thank you." 

It was the first time he spoke to me, and it nearly broke me. 

"I'll come visit you as often as I can," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "But it has to be our little secret for now, okay?" 

"Why?" Mira asked, her brow furrowing. 

"Because your mom needs some time to get used to the idea," I explained. "But I promise, I'll talk to her soon." 

They both nodded, accepting my explanation without question. 

---

Over the next few weeks, I visited them almost every day. Each visit brought new surprises, new joys. Mira was full of energy and questions, always eager to show me the latest drawing she had made or the book she was reading. George was quieter, but I could see his strength in the way he supported his sister and faced his illness with quiet bravery. 

I brought them gifts every time—puzzles, stuffed animals, even a small video game console. Seeing their faces light up made everything worth it. 

I asked what she tells her Mom when she asks about the gift and she said she tells her Mom a stranger gave it to them. I laughed uncontrollably at her smart but innocent lie.

But more than the gifts, I cherished the moments we spent together. Reading to them, listening to their stories, and hearing Mira call me "Daddy" as if she'd been saying it her whole life. 

I can't believe I missed this for years, I missed the sad and happy times.

I visited everyday for a week, I made sure Camilla was at work each time I visited.

One day, as I sat by George's bed, he looked up at me and asked, "Are you scared, Dad?" 

"Scared?" I repeated, caught off guard. 

"About the surgery," he said, his voice soft. 

I reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "No, buddy. I'm not scared. Because I know you're strong, and we're going to get through this together." 

He smiled, and in that moment, I knew I would do anything to protect them, to be the father they deserved. 

---

But every time I left their room, the guilt returned. I was keeping this from Camilla, and I knew it wasn't fair. She had every right to know I was spending time with them. 

I told myself I'd talk to her after the surgery, once George was out of danger. For now, I just wanted to focus on them—on making up for lost time, even if it was in secret. 

As I walked out of the hospital that evening, the weight of my mistakes pressed down on me. But for the first time in years, I felt a glimmer of hope. I had a chance to make things right. And I wouldn't waste it. 

One evening, as I read George a bedtime story, he turned to me, his small hand reaching for mine.

"Dad," he whispered.

"Yes, buddy?"

"Promise you won't go away again."

His words hit me harder than anything Camilla had said. I held his hand tightly and smiled through the sting of tears. "I promise, George. I'm here to stay. I'm really sorry I haven't been around, it wasn't my intention. I love you guys so much and I'll try to make sure you have everything you need."

" Thanks Dad" he said before drifting off to sleep. I placed the blanket over him and Mira, and placed kisses on their foreheads.

This right here is all I need and I'll fight for it, I'd fight to keep my family no matter what the elders say or do.

That night, as I walked out of the hospital, I couldn't stop the guilt creeping back. Keeping this from Camilla wasn't fair, but I needed to make sure I didn't lose this chance.

For now, I just wanted to be their father. When the time was right, I would make things right with Camilla too.