Chapter 24
Sophia’s P.O.V
I woke up early that morning, before the sun had even begun to stretch its fingers across the sky. The kitchen was still cold, the servants still hadn’t arrived yet, but my hands moved through the motions like they had a mind of their own.
I started chopping vegetables, my mind heavy with the thought of what I was about to do. I could feel the weight of the day pressing down on me, but I didn’t stop.
The smell of fresh herbs and sizzling meat filled the air as I worked, and I had to keep reminding myself why I was doing this.
Tristan was coming home today. My husband. The man who, for the past twelve years, had been the center of my world. The same man who had taken a weekend getaway with his younger mistress, leaving me behind without an ounce of guilt.
The irony was almost too much to bear. I couldn’t help but think of all the times I had put up with his infidelities since we opened our marriage, telling myself that I’d let it slide because I loved him.
That I could forgive him–again and again–because he was my husband and he promised to love only me. And despite everything, he was the father of my two precious girls.
But today, I was determined to give him one last chance. For Sara and Tara. They deserved to have a father in their lives. I didn’t want them to grow up without him, without his presence, no matter how many times he had broken my heart.
I sighed as I placed the food on the table, carefully arranging everything so it looked perfect. A feast. Just like the ones we used to have when things were good between us. When I could still see the spark in his eyes.
“Mom? What are you cooking? It smells so nice…” Sara said as she emerged down the stairs, with Tara following in her toe.
“Yes, it smells so delicious!”
I couldn’t help but smile as they came bounding down the stairs and all but ran towards the table, their pigtails flying behind them. Mrs. Jenkins, the maid who usually takes care of them, stood to the side, a fond smile on her face as she watched the girls praise my cooking.
“No need to rush, girls,” I laughed when Tara almost dropped her fork in a hurry to get the chicken. “You can have all you want. Eat slowly or you’ll get hurt. That’s right…swallow your food.”
The girls ate with big smiles on their faces and my heart felt full of affection as I watched them, sitting on their chairs and helping them when needed and serving them second helpings.
“Mommy…where’s your plate?” Tara asked suddenly, ever the perceptive one of the twins.
I stilled, looking at them for a brief moment before putting on a smile. “I’ll eat a bit later, sweetheart…when daddy comes home.” I told her, swallowing past the nervous lump in my throat.
“Daddy’s coming back today?” Sara frowned, but there was no real joy in their expression, like there used to be before. And it made me pause,
Did they know more than they should? Did they see what happened on Friday?
“Yes sweetheart,” I told her, reaching out to clean a bit of gravy from the corner of her lips. “He’ll be back soon, so you can go back to your room and take a nap. And when you wake up in the afternoon, you’ll get to see him.”
“Okay.” Both Sara and Tara gave me small smiles, but it didn’t really reach their eyes. I didn’t know what to make of it, but their lack of warmth for their father told me that there was something I was missing…and I needed to figure it out.
After they were finished, I sent both girls back to their room, with the maid to keep them company, and put them to bed, while I waited at the table, hoping that when Tristan arrived…he would come alone, and not with Gabriella in toe.
I glanced at the clock, my heart racing. He’d be home soon. It felt almost unnatural, sending my girls away when all I wanted was to be surrounded by the sound of their laughter. But today wasn’t about them. It was about Tristan. And this lunch. This ridiculous charade that I had convinced myself would somehow make everything better.
