Later, back in his apartment, he paced from one end of the living room to the other. He kept replaying the sight of those boys. Their hair, the shape of their mouths, the way they tilted their heads at the same angle he did when curious. There was no mistaking the resemblance. They looked like him, even more than he had expected children might.
He tried to calm himself by opening an old file on his laptop. Photos of Kara flooded the screen. Kara laughing in a faded college sweatshirt. Kara holding a cheap sparkler at a Fourth of July party. Kara leaning her head on his shoulder during nights when he talked about his ambitions as if the world belonged to him already.
Then he found a picture he had forgotten existed. It was a photo of a pregnancy test she had texted him, taken right before he left the city for a business trip that eventually became the start of his new life. He remembered brushing off the conversation that day, telling her they would talk soon. He never followed through.
His phone buzzed. A message from his assistant, Mateo.
Found her. Sending the address.
The next afternoon, Mason drove himself to the location. It was a modest apartment building in a quiet working class neighborhood. He waited across the street until he saw Kara exit the building with the boys. They wore backpacks that looked a little too big for their shoulders. She held their hands tightly, guiding them toward a bus stop.
He crossed the street slowly. “Kara.”
She froze. Her eyes widened, but only for an instant. She instructed the boys to wait near a vending machine on the corner and then turned back to face him.
“What do you want, Mason.”
“I saw you yesterday. I… saw them.”
“And.”
“I need to know if…”
“Say it,” she said.
“If they’re mine.”
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