The Twins’ Secret

Dorian sat at a modest café on the outskirts of Eirian Vale, the room's warmth doing nothing to alleviate the frigid storm raging within him. His coffee sat untouched, the black liquid spinning in his thoughts as he recalled what he had witnessed. The Gallery. The twins. Ana's pale, horrified expression when their gazes collided.

It's all added up now. The male has unkempt brown hair, while the girl has bright blue eyes. The way they clung to Ana, protective and instinctual. They were his offspring. Why hadn't he seen it right away?

He ran a palm over his face, remorse gnawing at him. Five years. He had missed five years of their lives. Birthdays, first words, and first steps were all taken away from him due to his own blindness and the lies that had crept into his life.

The bell above the café entrance jingled, interrupting his thoughts. Hazel strolled in, her keen eyes sweeping the room before focusing on him. She approached with determined steps.

"Whatever you're doing here, it needs to stop," she stated abruptly, moving onto the seat across from him.

Dorian met her eyes unflinchingly. "You knew," he said simply.

Hazel's lips stiffened. "Of course, I knew. I've been helping Ana keep them safe from you."

The words hit him like a blow in the stomach. "Protect them?" he said, his voice low and threatening. "From me?"

"Yes," Hazel said forcefully. "From the man who betrayed her." "From the man who let another woman ruin her life."

"I didn't know—"

"Exactly," Hazel said, cutting him short. "You did not know. And you didn't want to find out. You allowed Lila to influence you, and Ana paid the price. So don't be shocked if she doesn't want you here right now."

Dorian leaned forward, growling. "These are my children, Hazel. My bloodstream. "You had no right to keep them from me."

"And you had no right to destroy her," Hazel said, her tone cold. "You don't get to rewrite history just because you're feeling guilty now."

Dorian clinched his hands, trying to keep his temper under control. "I did not come here to fight with you. I came here because I wanted to do the right thing.

"Then leave," Hazel stated frankly. "Return to your world of boardrooms and billion-dollar transactions. Allow Ana and the twins to enjoy the lives they have created here without you."

"I can't," Dorian said gently, his voice filled with deep passion. "I can't just walk away. Not again. "Not now that I know."

Hazel observed him for a long time, her keen stare relaxing just a little. "You've got a lot to prove, Blackwood," she said finally. "And if you think Ana's just going to forgive you, you're delusional."

"I don't expect forgiveness," Dorian confessed. "But I won't leave. "Not until I make things right."

Hazel sighed and stood up. "Then you should start by being honest. "With her and with yourself."

---

Later that evening, Ana was in the kitchen cutting vegetables for dinner, while the twins colored at the table. The home was filled with the comfortable buzz of domestic life, but Ana's thoughts were far from tranquil.

The knock at the door caused her to freeze, the knife dangling in mid-air. Her heart plummeted as she knew who it may be.

"Ana," Dorian's voice yelled from the opposite side. "Please, let me in."

She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. She couldn't escape it indefinitely.

She set down the knife and moved to the door, opening it just enough to glimpse his face. His look was a mix of resolve and vulnerability, a startling contrast to the icy, arrogant guy she had previously known.

"What do you want, Dorian?" She inquired, her voice tired.

"We need to talk," he continued, his voice begging.

"I think we've said all there is to say."

"No," he said firmly. "We haven't. "And you are aware of this."

Ana hesitated, her hand stiffening against the doorframe. "The twins are inside," she explained, her voice falling. "Keep your voice down."

His gaze softened. Ana, please. "Please give me five minutes."

She reluctantly stepped aside to let him in. He stood in the little living room, his presence making the place feel smaller and more personal.

The twins glanced up from their coloring pages, their cheeks beaming when they spotted him.

"Hi!" Alaric spoke cheerfully. "You're the man from the gallery!"

Dorian stooped down to meet their level, his grin forced but sincere. "That's correct. I'm Dorian. "And you must be Alaric."

Alaric nodded eagerly and pointed to his sister. "And that is Isolde." "She's really good at painting."

"Is she?" Dorian inquired, his tone softening as he gazed at the tiny child. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday."

Isolde bent her head, observing him with the same calm focus that Ana possessed. "You look like Mama," she eventually admitted.

Ana's breath caught, and Dorian's eyes shifted up to meet hers. The unspoken truth sat between them, heavy and obvious.

"Why don't you two go upstairs and wash up for dinner?" Ana spoke hurriedly, her voice tense.

"But I'm not done coloring," Alaric objected.

"Now," Ana stated forcefully.

The twins exchanged looks but complied, scampering upstairs. Ana turned to face Dorian, arms crossed across her chest, as their footsteps receded.

"You had no right to come here," she said, her voice quivering.

"They're mine," he said simply, his voice firm.

"You don't get to claim them right now," she yelled. "You forfeited that right when you chose her over us."

"I didn't know, Ana," he said, his voice cracking. "If I'd known—"

"But you didn't," she interjected. "Because you didn't care enough to notice what was there in front of you. You let Lila control you, and I suffered the consequences."

"I was a fool," he confessed, getting closer. "I let my grief and anger blind me." But I see it now. I want to fix things."

"You can't fix this, Dorian," she whispered with tears in her eyes. "You can't undo five years of pain, of struggle, of raising two children on my own."

"I can't change the past," he remarked, his voice hoarse. "But I can be here now. For you. "For them."

Ana shook her head, tears streaming down. "I do not need you, Dorian. "We don't need you."

"Maybe not," he said gently. But I need you. "I need them."

The vulnerability in his speech cut deep into her heart, but she refused to be swayed.

"You don't get to just walk back into our lives and expect everything to be okay," she added, her voice shaking.

"I don't expect that," he replied. "But I am not going away. "Not this time."

Ana looked away, her shoulders trembling as she attempted to contain the emotions that threatened to escape.

Dorian took a step closer, pausing for a second before resting his hand on her shoulder. "Ana," he said gently. "Please. Allow me to demonstrate that I can be better. For them. "For you."

She backed backward, her voice chilly. "You have no idea what it's going to take to earn that."

"Then tell me," he said, his tone frantic. "Tell me what I have to do."

Ana faced him, her eyes filled with rage and grief. "Be honest with yourself, Dorian. Because I don't believe you know what you truly desire."

The tension between them crackled like a live wire, and the air was heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings.

"Get out," she eventually muttered, her voice scarcely audible.

Dorian paused, his gaze fixed on her for a long while before nodding and walking to the door.

Ana slid to the floor as it closed behind him, breathing in small breaths. She had won this battle, but she knew the fight wasn't done.