The boy studied me.
“I’m Noah,” he said after a moment. Then he pointed to the child carefully arranging toy cars. “That’s Eli. He doesn’t like loud.”
Eli did not look up. He rolled the green car forward exactly two inches, then back again, lips moving as if counting.
I nodded.
“I’ll be quiet.”
Noah seemed to consider whether I could be trusted with that instruction.
Lina leaned around him.
“You have gray eyes,” she announced.
My throat closed.
“So do you.”
She smiled, delighted by the coincidence.
Maya looked away.
Behind me, footsteps approached.
Camille.
I stood before she reached us, instinctively placing myself between the scene and whatever storm was coming next, though I had no idea whom I was protecting from whom.
Camille stopped at my side. Her gaze moved from Maya to the stroller, then to my face.
Understanding came slowly.
Then all at once.
“No,” she whispered.
I said nothing.
Her eyes filled, but she did not cry. Camille had been trained too well for public tears.
“Maya Brooks,” Camille said, her voice careful and cold.
Maya’s brows drew together. “Do we know each other?”
Camille gave a small laugh that held no humor.
“Not personally.”
I turned to Camille.
“This isn’t the place.”
“You’re right,” she said. “This should have been discussed before I agreed to marry you.”
The diamond on her finger caught the sun again.
For the first time, it looked absurd.
A promise made in ignorance.
A future built on a missing truth.
“I didn’t know,” I said.
Camille looked at the children again. Her anger faltered for the briefest moment, replaced by something more complicated. Pain, yes. But also shock. Maybe even pity.
Then she looked at Maya.
“Did you know he was engaged?”
Maya’s face paled.
“No.”
