gravel, leaves rustling in the autumn breeze—faded into a distant hum. It was as if someone had turned down the volume of the world. All he could hear was his own heartbeat, pounding heavily in his ears… and all he could see was what stood before him.

The bench.
The woman.
And two infants resting beside her.

— Mom… — he said quietly at last. — Please wait here for a moment.

Margaret studied her son’s face. She didn’t ask a single question. One look was enough. She nodded and slowly sat down a short distance away, giving him space.

Adrian walked toward the bench. Each step felt heavier than the one before, as if he were moving straight into a past he had spent years burying beneath success and discipline. The woman was asleep—no, not peacefully, but from sheer exhaustion. Her face was pale, her features drawn. Even in sleep, her arms curved protectively around the two babies wrapped in worn blankets.

— Dora… — he whispered.

The name escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

She stirred, opened her eyes, and the moment she recognized him, her body tensed. Instinctively, she pulled the babies closer to her chest. Fear flickered in her eyes, mixed with shame and a deep, bone-weary sadness.

— What are you doing here? — she asked softly, her voice trembling.

— I was walking with my mother. — Adrian’s gaze dropped to the children. — Who… who are they?

Dora looked away.

— That’s none of your concern.

The words struck him harder than he expected. Because somewhere deep inside, he knew they weren’t true.

He leaned in slightly. One of the babies had dark eyes—eyes identical to his own. The other had a small, delicate nose, the same gentle shape he had once kissed so many times on Dora’s face.

— How old are they? — he asked slowly.

Dora’s jaw tightened.

— Please… just go.

— How old are they? — he repeated, firmer now.

Silence settled between them. A gust of wind lifted dry leaves into the air, as though time itself hesitated.

— One year old, — she said at last. — Twelve months exactly.

Adrian took a step back. The truth hit him like a blow.

— That can’t be… — he murmured. — We were still married then.

Tears filled Dora’s eyes.

— That’s exactly why I stayed silent.

And then everything spilled out. She spoke of loneliness, of endless nights waiting for messages that never came while he built his empire. She told him about the moment she tried to tell him she was pregnant—and his voice on the phone, distant and rushed:

“This isn’t a good time.”

— And then the divorce papers arrived, — she said, her voice breaking. — Like a signature at the bottom of my life.

Adrian remembered. That decision he had labeled “logical.” That woman he had dismissed as overly emotional.

— I didn’t know… about the twins, — he said quietly.

— You didn’t know anything, — Dora replied bitterly. — Because you never wanted to know.

At that moment, Margaret approached. She looked at the babies for a long time, then at her son. When she spoke, her voice was calm but carried the weight of truth.

— These are your children, Adrian. And if you turn your back on them now, you won’t just lose them. You’ll lose yourself.

Adrian’s legs gave way. He dropped to his knees in front of the bench. Everything he had built—money, status, power—suddenly felt empty and meaningless.

— I made a mistake, — he whispered. — A terrible one. But please… let me be their father.

Dora said nothing. Then one of the babies began to cry. Without thinking, Adrian reached out. Tiny fingers wrapped tightly around his index finger.

In that moment, Adrian understood:
this meeting was not an accident.
It was a debt from the past.
And perhaps his last chance to make things right.

But fate wasn’t finished yet…
because Dora took a deep breath and revealed a secret that turned everything upside down once again…