CHAPTER 40: PRIORITIES~

Lola had a dream.

In that dream, instead of the words, "I’m sorry, Miss Young. We can’t save them," it was, "Don’t worry. Your son is fine."

In that dream, instead of being wheeled to mourn her stillborn child, she was wheeled to see her healthy baby. Instead of grief, her tears were of pure joy as she held her child.

And in that dream, she had raised her baby, and he had grown just like Chacha and Second.

Perhaps that was one of the main reasons why she felt so quickly attached to the twins. Those two were about the same age as Lola’s child—if only she had been able to protect him. No wonder the heartbreak of letting them go felt just as painful as when she lost her child.

The only good thing about it was that they were fine. Second and Chacha would be fine. They had a father. Although he was strange, she wanted to believe he was, in his own way, a good one.

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*

*

Lola’s eyes flickered underneath her eyelids as a headache hit her like a truck. She hadn’t fully regained consciousness, but the throb in her head told her she was awake.

"Ugh," she grunted, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I really overdid it last night."

A deep sigh escaped her as she thought about the aftermath of drinking—the real reason she avoided drinks. Aside from the fact that it wasn’t enough to get her really drunk, the hangover felt like she had been poisoned.

"Ugh..." she trailed off, sniffing the air. A faint smell of coffee wafted toward her, mixed with something else. It smelled nice—manly, but very unfamiliar.

Lola sniffed a few times before an imaginary clap rang in her head. Her eyes snapped open in horror, realizing this scent was surely not Silo’s. But the moment she opened her eyes, she caught a leg casually resting over the other, swinging lightly.

She froze as her breath hitched in her throat, eyes wide open. She stared at those neat, fitted slacks, slightly pulled up due to his position, showing a hint of his ankle bone.

Slowly, she lifted her eyes, her huge eyelashes tilting to the side.

There, seated on the armchair, was a man. He was reading a newspaper while casually sipping a cup of coffee. The morning sun filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a shadow on one side of his face while the light illuminated the other.

"That..." she blinked once, twice, then many more times.

After a second, her mouth dropped. Still lying on the couch like a dead fish, her eyes were glued to his handsome face, and they widened even more.

What is this man doing here?

Lola opened and closed her mouth. She recognized him from long ago, and his face had dominated the international business news many times.

Am I still dreaming?

"At least you know." Suddenly, the man spoke. "Overdoing the drinking."

With a snap of his fingers, Lola abruptly sat up.

"Did I—" she gasped, almost choking as she stood to her feet.

Did she get into the wrong unit last night?!

She felt her entire world shake for a second with her abrupt movement, but let that be damned.

Lola got to her feet and swung her head down. "I’m sorry! I really am sorry!" she winced. "I didn’t mean to get in the wrong unit!"

"Mhm..." Atlas glanced up at her, humming so casually.

"Really sorry! I’m going home now!" she exclaimed before turning away, not even lifting her head. She just wanted to get out and perhaps thank him and apologize again later. However, she only took four steps before she stopped.

Looking up and scanning her surroundings, her brows arched.

"This is my place," she blurted out, her brows knitting together. She looked again, peeling her fake lashes off just to be sure. A second later, she was sure she hadn’t gotten into the wrong unit.

"???" Confused, she slowly looked back to where the man was casually perched while enjoying a cup of coffee—in her personalized mug!

"If I’m not the one who got into the wrong unit..." she trailed off, pointing at herself. She blinked, eyes still on Atlas, and then laughed.

Lola rested her hand on her hip as she shook her head. "Heh. Gosh. Maybe I really got drunk if I’m still dreaming—"

"You’re not."

She almost bit her tongue when he spoke again, placing the cup on the side table before flipping the newspaper to the next page.

"If it were, I’d be busy slaying monsters," he added coolly, as if it were just another Tuesday.

"..." Her mind buzzed for a second, staring at him blankly. She wasn’t even confused anymore, but rather, her brain felt like it had short-circuited. Then, a second later, "!!!"

She had just drunk last night, didn’t she? What happened in the last several hours while she was asleep?

A plethora of questions ran through her mind as she thought about what had just happened. After all, there was no reason for this man to show up right in her living room!

Amid her total confusion, she snapped out of it when she heard familiar voices.

"Good morning, Mommy~!"

"Morning, Mommy~!"

Lola turned her head to the source of the joyful voices, catching two little buns running toward her. The next moment, they were hugging her leg, beaming up at her brightly.

"Second..." she whispered, surprise overtaking her confusion. "Chacha?"

"Mommy, we made you breakfast!" Second announced. "We made soup too!"

"Mommy, let’s go so you don’t get a hangover!"

"Hang..." Lola bit her tongue, scrunching up her nose as she realized just how bad this looked. But then, she heard some tongue-clicking.

Turning her head, she saw Atlas clicking his tongue. His gaze was on her, and that judgmental look in his eyes told her one thing:

Bad parent.

Lola scoffed, only to have her hands tugged by the twins. Second and Chacha held her hands to drag her. But they didn’t leave without saying,

"Father Sir, time to eat!"

"Father... Sir?" Lola blurted out as she looked down at the twins, then at the man closing the newspaper as he rose to his feet. "That... that Atlas is your dad?"

"Handsome!" Chacha grinned. "Rich!"

Then Second chimed in. "Smart!"

But right after saying that, they opened their palms toward Lola. When her gaze landed on them, her face contorted at the earplugs they were offering like something sacred.

And with a sweet voice, they sang, "Priorities~"