The first weeks at home with Eli and Luca were the hardest thing Adrian had ever done. Nothing could have prepared him for the reality of caring for twin newborns—the constant feeding and diaper changes, the crying that seemed to never stop, the bone-deep exhaustion that came from getting maybe two hours of sleep at a time.
Eli was a relatively easy baby. He ate well, slept in two-hour stretches, and only cried when he was hungry or needed changing. But Luca was difficult from the start. He had trouble latching when nursing, which meant Adrian had to pump and bottle-feed him. He cried constantly, his tiny face turning red with distress. He barely slept, which meant Adrian barely slept.
"He might have colic," Dr. Chen said at their two-week checkup. "Some babies just have more sensitive digestive systems. It should improve by three months."
Three months felt like an eternity away.
Adrian's parents were lifesavers. His mer father took a leave of absence from the grocery store to help during the day, handling one baby while Adrian managed the other. His fer father worked double shifts to make up for the lost income, coming home exhausted but always willing to take a night feeding shift.
"You're doing great," his mer father told Adrian one morning after a particularly rough night. Adrian had been crying along with Luca, overwhelmed and exhausted. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you are. These babies are fed and clean and loved. That's what matters."
"I don't know what I'm doing," Adrian sobbed. "What if I mess them up? What if I'm not enough?"
"You're their papa. That makes you exactly enough." His mer father pulled him into a gentle hug, careful of Adrian's still-healing body. "Every new parent feels this way. You're not alone in this, Adrian. We're a team."
Slowly, painfully, they found a rhythm. Adrian learned to nurse Eli while bottle-feeding Luca. Learned which cry meant hunger and which meant a dirty diaper. Learned that Eli liked to be swaddled tightly while Luca preferred his arms free. Learned to nap when they napped, to accept help when it was offered, to forgive himself for not being perfect.
Riley visited when the babies were three weeks old, bearing gifts—adorable baby clothes she'd found at a thrift store, board books, a stuffed bear for each baby.
"Oh my god, they're so tiny," she breathed, looking at Eli and Luca sleeping side by side in their cribs. "Can I hold one?"
Adrian carefully lifted Luca and placed him in Riley's arms. She cradled him like he was made of glass, tears in her eyes.
"He's perfect. They're both perfect." She looked at Adrian. "How are you doing? Really?"
"I'm tired. Scared. But also... happier than I expected, I guess? I love them so much it terrifies me."
"That's normal. My aunt says being a parent is basically just being terrified all the time while pretending you know what you're doing."
Adrian laughed, the first real laugh in weeks. It felt good.
By the time the babies were two months old, things were marginally easier. Luca's colic was improving. Both babies were sleeping in three-hour stretches at night. Adrian was getting better at managing both of them simultaneously. His body had mostly healed from the birth, though he had stretch marks and loose skin he tried not to think about.
"You should start thinking about your future," his fer father said one evening after the babies were asleep. "About finishing school, maybe taking some online classes."
"I can't think about that yet," Adrian said tiredly. "I can barely manage getting through each day."
"I know. But you're eighteen now. The babies will get easier. You need to think about your long-term plans. How you'll support them."
Adrian knew his father was right. The money his parents had saved was running out. They needed his income eventually. But the thought of school felt impossible. How could he focus on homework when he was up every three hours feeding babies?
Still, he started researching online GED programs. Community college courses he could take from home. Possible career paths that would allow him to support his sons.
Late at night, when both babies were finally asleep and the house was quiet, Adrian would sit with his laptop and plan. He would get his diploma. Then maybe take business classes or accounting—something practical that would lead to stable employment. His dreams of becoming a writer felt foolish now, childish. He needed to be realistic. Needed to provide for his children.
Sometimes, in his weakest moments, Adrian would wonder what Kai was doing. If he was still living his privileged life without a care. If he ever thought about that weekend at the lake house, about Adrian, about what he'd destroyed.
Probably not. Kai had made it clear Adrian meant nothing to him.
But then Adrian would look at Eli and Luca—at their tiny hands and perfect faces—and the anger would fade. He didn't need Kai. His sons didn't need Kai. They had each other, and they had Adrian's parents, and that was enough.
Time moved differently once Adrian became a parent. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months. Before he knew it, Eli and Luca were six months old, sitting up and babbling. Then they were a year old, taking their first wobbly steps. Then two years, then three, then four.
Adrian got his GED when the boys were eighteen months old, studying during their naps and after bedtime. His mer father watched them during testing days, and Adrian passed with high marks. It felt like a small victory in a life that had been redefined by compromise and sacrifice.
When the boys were two, Adrian started taking online business courses through community college. Two classes per semester, slowly working toward a degree. It would take years at this pace, but he was moving forward. His fer father had returned to work full-time once the boys were older, and Adrian picked up evening shifts at the bookstore once the boys were sleep-trained enough that his mer father could handle bedtime alone.
The bookstore job was a lifeline. Mrs. Chen, the owner, was understanding about Adrian's situation. She let him bring the boys to work sometimes when childcare fell through, setting up a small play area in the back office. She paid him fairly and gave him health insurance—crucial for covering the boys' pediatrician visits and Adrian's own healthcare needs.
By the time Adrian was twenty, the boys were almost five. They'd grown from helpless infants into distinct little people with their own personalities, preferences, and quirks.
Eli was serious and thoughtful, just like he'd been as a baby. He loved books, sitting for hours looking at pictures and asking Adrian to read the same stories over and over. He was cautious, thinking carefully before trying new things. He had Kai's dark hair and strong features, and sometimes when Adrian looked at him, his heart ached with a complicated mixture of love and old pain.
Luca was his opposite—energetic, social, fearless. He made friends everywhere they went, chattering to strangers in the grocery store, befriending other children at the park within minutes. He had lighter coloring and softer features, but he had Kai's smile. That same charming grin that had once made Adrian's heart race now appeared on his son's face, and it was bittersweet every time.
They were starting kindergarten in the fall, which meant Adrian needed to think seriously about his career. The bookstore paid enough for their small apartment and basic needs, but barely. He couldn't give his sons the life they deserved on a bookstore clerk's salary. He needed something better, something with room for advancement.
That's when he saw the job posting: Executive Assistant, Mercer Media Corporation.
The salary made his breath catch—more than double what he made at the bookstore. Full benefits, retirement matching, opportunities for advancement. It was exactly what he needed to build a stable future for his sons.
The fact that it was Kai's family company made his stomach turn. But Mercer Media was huge, hundreds of employees across multiple buildings. Adrian did his research—Kai had been sent to the London office two years ago to oversee their European expansion. He wouldn't even be in the country. The chances of running into him were essentially zero.
And even if he did... well, it had been five years. Kai probably wouldn't even recognize him. Adrian had changed—he was no longer the naive, hopeful seventeen-year-old who'd believed in fairy tales. He was harder now, more guarded. A parent who'd learned to prioritize survival over dreams.
He updated his resume, highlighting his business courses and bookstore management experience. He didn't mention being a single parent—he'd learned that often hurt more than helped in job interviews. He submitted the application and tried not to think about the cosmic irony of potentially working for the family of the person who'd destroyed his life.
Two weeks later, he got the call for an interview.