Kamille

The dark, gloomy clouds were a hallmark of London’s weather. This sent a cold chill down my spine, solidifying my split-second decision to return after seeing Grandma’s will. I was shocked to realize I’d endured years of isolation and mistreatment, when I shouldn't have.

So, I made the life-changing decision to return to London with my kids. I needed to confront those who hurt me and find the stranger who’d saved our lives. A few calls to American friends later, and we were on a one-way flight.

I'd made living and travel arrangements, but uneasiness churned in my stomach.

“Mommy, my coat!” Torin whined as we deplaned.

“Let me help you,” Reon said, instantly fastening the buttons.

“Thank you, Reon.” I patted his hair and pulled Tyris and Royer closer. The clouds then broke, releasing a downpour.

Exclamations erupted around us, though few seemed surprised. London's erratic weather brought a wave of nostalgia.

“Okay, let’s hurry to cover; we can’t catch a cold!” I urged my kids forward.

After baggage claim, the rain poured relentlessly. It was stressful navigating the airport with four children and all the luggage, attracting much attention. I was used to it; quadruplets are rare.

We were exhausted from the journey, and the rain made it worse. To add to the stress, I couldn't find our pre-booked transport.

Adjusting my scarf, I looked at my children and felt bad for putting them through this without explanation. I’d simply said we were visiting “Mommy’s real city,” implying fun. Fun wasn’t guaranteed—I was here for potentially dangerous matters—but my kids needed to know their roots.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” I crouched. “Mommy will get a warm ride and some umbrellas; you four stay here until I return, okay?”

I pointed to a nearby security officer. “I’ll ask her to watch you. I won’t be long.”

They nodded. We approached the officer, and I explained, requesting her assistance. She nodded; her response was less enthusiastic than hoped, but it would have to do.

“Okay, sit here.” I settled them on the seats, adjusting their coats. I placed our luggage beside them and kissed their foreheads.

“I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Reon said.

I sighed. “Baby, don’t worry. The security officer will. Be a good boy and rest with your siblings.”

Pulling my coat tighter, I hurried away, wanting to minimize time apart from my precious children.

Zeke

Even granite wasn't as hard as my expression as I ended the call. It was my chauffeur, stuck in traffic miles from the airport and running late. I’d just arrived after a ten-hour flight, and the last thing I needed was a delay, compounded by London's incessant rain.

Cursing, I shoved my phone in my pocket and strode into the airport lounge. Part of me scanned my surroundings; the other half considered hailing a taxi.

I hated taxis. They were usually in poor condition, distasteful, and reeked of cheap perfume. The temperature was always wrong—too hot or too cold. Even the most expensive taxis couldn’t match the comfort of my own vehicles.

Or maybe I was an arrogant spoiled jerk. I didn’t care. I was starving. The in-flight meal was inedible, despite being first-class. Only the champagne and sparkling water were palatable; I considered suing for the substandard service.

My peripheral vision caught something. A few feet away sat four children in colorful coats. Children in airports are common, but this…wasn't.

They were quadruplets—three boys and a girl. I froze. The boys looked like miniature versions of myself. The resemblance was uncanny.

I moved toward them before I could overthink it. A strange man approaching children isn't ideal, but that was the least of my concerns as their bright blue eyes met mine—eyes exactly the same shade as mine.

No adult was present, and they were too young to be alone in a large airport. I sat beside them, watching them observe me curiously.

“Where are your parents?” I asked gently.

“Our mommy will be right back. She went to get umbrellas,” one boy calmly replied, unfazed by my presence. He seemed like the eldest, and he only mentioned his mother, indicating single parenthood.

Another boy added, “Our mommy’s a weather forecaster. She knows if it’ll rain just by looking at the sky! Cool, right?”

My laughter surprised me; I felt at ease. I looked at the girl; her large brown eyes gazed intently at me. I smiled, but it faded as I realized she looked familiar—not like me, but like someone I knew.

“I can tell if it’ll rain too!” the last boy said, and they began to bicker, but I wasn’t listening. I suddenly remembered someone who predicted the weather this well. She’d merely looked at the sky to decide if she needed an umbrella. I was cold and uncaring, but she never stopped caring for me.

My heart ached with the onslaught of memories. I'd cursed myself for my treatment of her. I didn’t deserve her unconditional love. I wished she’d told me the truth—that she'd been infertile since her teens. My family had revealed this secret.

That knowledge had made me treat her even worse. I let Ellen poison me against her, and I divorced her. I thought I still had feelings for Ellen, but my heart belonged to my ex-wife—the woman I thought I despised.

“Mommy’s here!”

My gaze snapped up. It was Kamille, a face I never expected to see again. For a second, I thought my regret had conjured her, but this was real. She was the mother of these children.