The Mistress Who Ran Away With The Twins-Chapter 147: The Unfamiliar Warmth

They approached Cairo’s bed cautiously.

The twins tightened their grip on my hands, sticking close to my sides.

As Sergio reached out, his once-hardened, authoritative hands now trembling and gently brushed Cairo’s hair with a tenderness I had never seen from him...

Impossible... he’s not the Sergio Lincolm I know.

Cairo blinked weakly at the touch.

"G-grandpa... I’m glad to see you. A-are you okay? Are your back and your knees throbbing again like before?" he murmured.

I noticed a slight softening in Sergio’s expression. His throat bobbed.

"Of course I’m here," he said hoarsely. "I should have been here sooner. And you, silly boy... you shouldn’t be worried about me. You should be more worried about yourself. What do you think of your grandpa? I can still walk—and even run—just to see you."

"H-hehe..." Cairo chuckled faintly, a small, tired sound that made my chest tighten.

"Hey, young man, don’t chuckle... did you know you made us all worried?" Sylvester said gently.

Sylvester sat on the opposite side of the bed, his expression oddly conflicted, as if he didn’t know whether to scold or comfort Cairo. Stephenson stood stiffly near the foot of the bed, hands clasped together.

"Didn’t the doctor say not to overexert yourself? You’re six now, so you should take care of your body more." Sylvester continued.

"Yes, Uncle..." Cairo answered obediently, his small hand clutching the edge of the blanket.

Sergio’s gaze softened even further as he reached out to adjust Cairo’s pillow. "Don’t push yourself too hard. I want you to grow up strong... not just smart, but healthy too. You hear me?"

Cairo nodded, his eyes brightening slightly. "I hear you, Grandpa."

Sylvester let out a small, relieved sigh. Stephenson, meanwhile, shifted slightly, still uncomfortable showing emotion, but staying close to Cairo.

Egypt leaned closer to me, whispering. "Mommy... they look scary... but... they don’t look bad."

Paris nodded slowly. "Yeah... they look like they really care about Cairo."

Care.

It’s funny to hear that word, since the Lincolm family is a heartless family.

But as I watched Sergio’s shoulders shake ever so slightly while Cairo held his hand...

...I felt a pull in my chest I didn’t know how to name.

It wasn’t forgiveness.

Not even close.

But it was the first crack in a wall I had spent years building.

Cairo’s grip loosened slightly as he looked up at his uncles and grandfather.

"I’m r-really glad you came," he murmured. "M-mom was really worried about me earlier... We went to the amusement park. It was my first time there, and it was a really fun place... I want to go again, but this time with all of you... with you, Mom, my sisters... and Dad."

The room froze for a moment.

Stephenson swallowed hard. Sylvester lowered his gaze. Sergio’s expression faltered.

I stiffened.

Sergio cleared his throat softly. "Uhm... Cairo, about that... You know we’re worried about your health, right? When you’re healed, stronger, taller—then we’ll go. All of us. Together."

Cairo pouted. "B-but when is that? M-mom lets me play and enjoy things, but you don’t even want me leaving the house... And I want to play with my sisters too."

He glanced at Egypt and Paris, who gave him encouraging smiles.

Paris stepped closer to the bedside, her small voice soft but firm. "We can all play together, Cairo. When you get better... we’ll go anywhere you want."

Egypt nodded quickly. "Yeah! A-and—" she paused, glancing shyly toward Sergio and my brothers.

"Y-your Grandpa and Uncles... uhm... they can come too. Right, Mommy?"

Their innocent voices filled the room, smoothing out some of the tension.

Cairo smiled faintly, tiredly. "Then uncles and grandpa... don’t fight with Mommy. Please."

All three men glanced at me instantly.

"Cairo, we weren’t fighting your mom," Stephenson cut in gently, his voice unusually soft for someone his size. He lifted both hands slightly, as if surrendering. "We... just didn’t agree on some things. Adults argue sometimes, but... not everything is a fight."

Sergio exhaled through his nose, half relief, half shame. "Cairo’s right. We shouldn’t... fight. Especially not in front of the children."

He turned to me for a brief moment before looking away, as if he couldn’t hold my gaze.

"Sylvia... l-let’s talk later. But for now, let us see Cairo on his birthdays... and my other grandchildren too."

His eyes shifted toward Paris and Egypt with a softness I never expected from him. They froze under his gaze, not frightened, just pure curiousity.

Stephenson cleared his throat again, his voice low, careful. "And we promise we’re not here to cause trouble. We just want... to see Cairo today, on his special day. To greet him happy birthday. And the twins as well."

He swallowed, the tension obvious in his shoulders. "Even just as visitors. Nothing more."

Sylvester nodded stiffly, his fingers tapping nervously against his palm. "We’ll behave. We’ll keep our distance. Just... let us stay a little longer."

His voice cracked on the last words, barely noticeable unless someone was listening closely.

I raised a brow. "No. your time is almost up. You can all go now."

My voice was firm, colder than I intended but I couldn’t take it back. The words dropped into the room like a stone, making all three men freeze.

None of them argued.

The twins tugged at my hands again more gently this time. When I looked down, Egypt was watching me with wide, expectant eyes.

"Mom... c-can we talk to them?" she asked softly, her voice almost trembling. She wasn’t afraid—just nervous and curious. Her gaze drifted to Sergio, then to Sylvester, then to Stephenson.

"They... uhm... they look like they want to talk to us too."

My throat tightened.

I wanted to say no.

I wanted to tell her she couldn’t

That they didn’t deserve even a single word from her.

That I didn’t want them anywhere near my children, not after everything, not after all the years of silence.

But Egypt didn’t know any of that.

Paris didn’t know any of that.

Cairo didn’t even know the half of it. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

And I didn’t want my anger to poison their innocence.

I didn’t want to plant hatred in their hearts.

So I stayed silent... swallowing my pride, swallowing the years of hurt... even if just for now.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward, as if the room itself was waiting for my decision.

Egypt squeezed my fingers.

Paris looked up at me with the same quiet hope.

But I didn’t want them to inherit my hatred.

So I forced a smile. "Y-yes... you can talk to them. I’m fine."

But the moment the words left my lips...

...something in me shifted.

Sergio was watching the twins with a softness he never once gave me.

A gentleness that felt almost foreign on his face now trembling as he reached toward children.

A sharp pain spread through my chest.

My vision blurred because the more I looked at him now, the more the past clawed its way back.

And suddenly—

I was small again.

My hands no longer held my daughters’ warm fingers.

Instead, they were tiny, scraped, trembling... covered in dust from climbing a fence just to hide.

The hallway was cold. The floor hurt my knees.

"Sylvia."

That voice.

Cold. Sharp. A blade.

I looked up.

Sergio Lincolm.

Not the trembling grandfather at Cairo’s bedside.

This was the man who never knelt.

Never softened.

Never paused.

His eyes were unmovable stone as his footsteps echoed toward me.

I hid my scraped hands behind my skirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

He always noticed.

"Why are you always crying?" His tone carried no warmth. No concern.

I swallowed, too terrified to answer.

"Stop being weak." He stared down as if strength was something I refused to learn. "You embarrass this family."

I bit my lip until I tasted blood to stop myself from sobbing.

But the tears still fell.

His expression didn’t change.

"Cry again, and you’ll stay in your room. No dinner."

Then he walked away, leaving me small... cold... unwanted.

Memory after memory followed like broken glass—

A birthday he never greeted.

A fever he ignored.

A wound I cleaned alone.

A girl trying not to cry because crying meant punishment.

Then..

"Mom?"

Egypt’s voice pulled me back.

Paris squeezed my arm. Cairo blinked up at me.

And behind them—

Sergio Lincolm... he’s giving me a worried look, and I hate it.

Not the stone-cold father from my childhood.

This Sergio looked older. Human. Guilt weighing down his shoulders.

And in that moment—

the contrast hit me so hard my chest tightened painfully.

How could the man who let me cry alone...

be the same man gently holding my son’s hand?

Egypt whispered again."Mom...can we?"

I inhaled shakily, forcing myself back into the present.