Chapter 6 His Nonchalance

Mia's POV

 

Linda entered. "Mrs. Branson called. She wants both of you home for dinner tonight."

 

My mother-in-law was the only person who treated our marriage as real, who saw me as more than Kyle's convenient arrangement.

 

Kyle's jaw tightened. "Tell her we're busy."

 

"I already tried, sir," Linda replied, "She insisted. Said, and I quote, 'Tell my stubborn son that if he doesn't bring my lovely daughter-in-law home for dinner tonight, I'll come to his office myself.'"

 

"Fine. We'll go." Kyle said.

 

The drive to the Branson mansion was silent. I watched the familiar neighborhoods pass by, each getting progressively more exclusive until we reached the tree-lined street where Kyle had grown up. The mansion stood proud and elegant, its windows warmly lit against the darkening sky.

 

Catherine was waiting at the door, her silver hair perfectly styled, her emerald dress matching her eyes.

 

"Finally!" She exclaimed, "My darlings!"

 

She embraced me first, holding me tight. Her familiar Chanel No. 5 perfume wrapped around me like a comfort blanket. "Mia, sweetheart," she pulled back, studying my face with motherly concern. "You look pale. Has my workaholic son been keeping you up too late at the office?"

 

"Mother," Kyle's voice held a warning tone.

 

"Oh, hush," Catherine waved him off, pulling me toward the house. "Come in, come in. Mrs. Reynolds has outdone herself with dinner tonight."

 

The mansion's interior hadn't changed since the last time we visited. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the antique furniture and family portraits. Everything spoke of old money, tastefully displayed yet comfortable. Catherine had always managed that delicate balance.

 

Catherine smiled as the first course was served. A delicate mushroom soup that filled the room with an earthy aroma. "Though I do miss the days when this table was fuller. Remember the Sunday dinners we used to have, Kyle? All your cousins would come..."

 

"That was a long time ago, Mother," Kyle replied.

 

Catherine sighed, stirring her soup. "Everything changes, doesn't it? Eva next door just became a grandmother last month. Her daughter had twins." She looked up at us, her eyes twinkling. "Speaking of which, when can I expect grandchildren?"

 

Kyle's fork clattered against his plate. "Mother—"

 

"Don't 'mother' me," Catherine cut him off. "You've been married three years. Three years! Do you know how many of my friends are already grandmothers twice over?"

 

"Work keeps us busy," Kyle said.

 

"Work!" Catherine's voice dripped. "Always work with you, Kyle. A woman needs more than a busy husband to be happy. She needs to be loved."

 

The word 'loved' hung in the air like a physical presence.

 

"The company is going through an important phase," Kyle said stiffly. "We can discuss children later."

 

Catherine's eyes narrowed. "That's an excuse and you know it. When I was pregnant with you—"

 

"Mother, we've discussed this," Kyle cut in, his voice sharp. "My priority right now is expanding the company into international markets. Children would be... inconvenient."

 

Inconvenient. The word hit me like a physical blow. My stomach churned violently as the smell of the food suddenly became overwhelming. Black spots danced at the edges of my vision as waves of nausea washed over me.

 

"May I be excused?" I interrupted, "I need some air."

 

Catherine's expression softened immediately. "Of course, dear. Use the garden. The night blooming jasmine is beautiful this time of year."

 

I wandered through Catherine's immaculate garden, past perfectly trimmed hedges and blooming flowers, until I reached the stone bench by the fountain.

 

My hand drifted to my stomach. Inconvenient, Kyle had called the idea of children. What would he say when he discovered these babies?

 

I closed my eyes, remembering all the times I'd sat in this very spot, dreaming of a future where Kyle would look at me the way he looked at Taylor. Where our marriage would be more than just a contract. Now here I sat, carrying his children, while he still saw me as nothing more than a business arrangement. The irony was almost too much to bear.

 

"I thought I'd find you here."

 

I turned to see Catherine approaching, a cashmere shawl in her hands. She draped it around my shoulders before sitting beside me.

 

"You always loved this spot," she said softly. "I remember the first time Kyle brought you home. You spent hours here, sketching the flowers."

 

"I'm sorry, dear," Catherine continued, taking my hand in hers. "I know my son. I failed him in some ways. After his father died..." she paused, her voice catching. "Kyle threw himself into being perfect. Perfect grades, perfect businessman. He forgot how to feel."

 

"Catherine, I—"

 

"Let me finish." Her grip on my hand tightened. "You're good for him, Mia. Better than he deserves. I see how you look at him, how much you love him. "

 

"Mother." Kyle's voice cut through the darkness. "Stop meddling."

 

Catherine stood, turning to face her son. "Take care of your wife, son. Before it's too late."

 

The city lights blurred past us as Kyle drove, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. I gathered my courage, trying to find the right words.

 

"Kyle," I said softly, "what you said at dinner, about children being inconvenient..."

 

"What about it?" His voice was cold. "Family is not my thing. You knew this when you signed the contract."

 

My heart sank. Sure. I shouldn't get this idea in my head. I shifted in my seat, trying to find a more comfortable position, when something rolled against my foot.

 

Reaching down, my fingers touched smooth metal. I picked it up. A lipstick tube – Dior Rouge, the exact shade I'd seen on Taylor's lips countless times at the office. The gold case gleamed mockingly in my palm, and I could smell her signature perfume lingering on it.

 

Of course. She'd been in his car. Recently. This wasn't some accident. Taylor never left anything to chance. She'd placed it here deliberately, another cruel reminder that she was the one Kyle truly wanted.

 

"Pull over," I whispered, fighting back bile.

 

"What?"

 

"Pull over!" The words came out more forcefully than I intended. "I need air."

 

Kyle's jaw clenched as he pulled to the curb. Without a word, I got out, wrapping my arms around myself in the cool night air. The car engine revved once before he drove away, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.

 

The city lights blurred as tears filled my eyes. How had my life become this? My head spun, whether from pregnancy or emotion, I couldn't tell.

 

"Mia?"

 

Through my tears, I saw a familiar face. Jeo stood there, concern etched across his features. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his leather jacket, draping it over my shoulders.

 

"You're freezing," he said, his hand warm on my arm. "What are you doing out here alone?"

 

"I'm fine," I tried to say, but the words slurred. The ground seemed to be moving beneath my feet.

 

"You're not fine." Jeo's voice grew urgent as I swayed. "You need a hospital."

 

"No, I just need—" My knees buckled.

 

"Hospital," Jeo decided, catching me before I hit the ground. "Now."