I Was Just A Passerby Carrying His Twin Heirs Chapter 22

I Was Just A Passerby Carrying His Twin Heirs Chapter 22

Those words replayed endlessly in my head.

Grant Vance said that.

The cold, tight-lipped man who never used more than three words at a time.

He actually said that.

I sat there frozen, hands resting on my belly.

Not a single bullet comment popped up.

Even the floating text seemed to be waiting for my reaction.

Finally, I blurted out, “…I need some yogurt.”

I pushed myself up and walked over to open the fridge.

Stop thinking about it.

It was too big of a question.

I couldn’t handle it right now.

I’d deal with it after finishing this yogurt.

Or maybe after ten bottles.

Or a hundred.

Or when these two little roommates inside me were born.

Deep down, though, I knew the truth.

Once you’ve seen something, you can’t unsee it.

Like his text message sent at two in the morning.

Like the way he stared at the screen in the ultrasound room.

Like the step he took to shield me outside the hospital.

Or the bone-chilling cold in his voice when he found out someone was harassing me.

I popped the top off the yogurt and took a sip.

Addressing the empty living room, I muttered, “Grant Vance, you really threw me a curveball.”

No one answered.

Just a sudden double-kick in my stomach.

It felt a lot like: Mom, give up the fight.

Twenty-two weeks pregnant.

Five and a half months.

My stomach looked like I was smuggling a giant watermelon.

Even walking was becoming a chore.

After what Mrs. Vance told me, Grant didn’t mention a thing the next time he reached out.

His texts were as brief as ever.

“Checkup go well?” “Yeah.” “Feeling okay?” “Fine.”

It seemed like nothing had changed.

But I knew better.

Because he started showing up.

Not every day.

Maybe two or three times a week.

Sometimes in the afternoon, sometimes at night.

He’d just sit on my sofa with his laptop, grinding through work.

He didn’t talk to me.

He didn’t stare, either.

He was just… there.

I went about my routine-binging shows, eating snacks, pacing around the room.

Occasionally, he’d glance up at me before looking back at his screen.

The first time, I felt completely out of place.

By the third time, I was getting used to it.

By the fifth time…

I actually found it nice.

Having someone around who didn’t pry or make noise gave me a sense of… quiet comfort.

One evening, I nodded off on the couch while watching TV.

When I woke up, a warm blanket was draped over me.

Grant was sitting on the other end. His laptop was open, but he was scrolling on his phone.

Noticing I moved, he looked over.

“You awake?”

I rubbed my eyes and let out a soft groan.

“What time is it?”

“Eleven. You’ve been out for an hour and a half.”

“Why didn’t you wake me…”

“You were sleeping deeply.”

He snapped his laptop shut and stood up.

“I’m heading out. Get into bed; sleeping on the couch is bad for your back.”

He walked to the front door and slipped on his shoes.

Wrapped in the blanket, I watched his back from the couch.

“Grant.”

He paused and turned around.

I opened my mouth, but the words got stuck in my throat.

“…Drive safe. Get home early.”