CHAPTER 67: AND FOR ONCE, I WISH I WERE WRONG.

"Do you still bake chocolates?"

Lola froze, staring at him with slightly wide eyes. She had just taken a brief trip down memory lane, hearing her younger, more enthusiastic voice shouting her heart out.

He remembered?

As if he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell, Atlas scooped a spoonful of his soup.

"Enjoy it while it’s warm," he said, guiding the spoon to his lips.

But Lola didn’t move. Her mind went blank, her emotions at war—which would dominate first, shame or shock? Perhaps, both?

Slowly, a sense of shame crept into her heart at the thought of it.

When he glanced at her on his third scoop, she finally snapped out of it. Without a word, she picked up her spoon and took a sip. She tried not to think about it, but the memory bothered her.

That past moment was one of the many that made her cringe with embarrassment out of the blue. Knowing the person who rejected her still remembered it bothered her more than it should.

"Uhm." She cleared her throat and looked up at him, sporting a smile once she met his gaze. "Just in case a misunderstanding arises, I didn’t—"

"Don’t explain yourself to me," he interjected calmly. "I will not misunderstand you."

"You don’t even know what I was going to say."

"You were going to tell me you didn’t know the twins are mine, and that you’re not planning on using them to get close to me," he guessed without a second pause. "Correct?"

Lola blinked, speechless. "Are you a mind reader?" she blurted out.

"It’s written all over your face," was all he said, meticulously scooping the soup as if it required precision.

"And like I said," he trailed off, lifting his gaze to her, "I will not misunderstand you."

He resumed eating, and she stopped, simply staring at him. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. In the end, she gazed down at her soup, watching the soft ripples on the surface.

His words didn’t carry any other meaning, but for someone who had always been misunderstood and who had spent a lifetime explaining herself, hearing those words he said tugged at something in her heart. It was as if he knew exactly what she needed to hear.

"Then, thank you." Lola smiled. "I appreciate that."

He glanced at her and nodded. "You’re welcome."

Silence fell between them again. This time, however, it was different. Her shoulders weren’t as tense. Without even noticing, she felt relaxed and was able to enjoy the soup.

And he just observed, satisfied.

After a while, the server returned to take their bowls and serve the next dish. Another appetizer, and like reading a script, he explained the dish with precise detail of what was in it and the story behind it.

"This is nice," she muttered, taking a bite and nodding in approval. She looked at Atlas and saw him nod in agreement.

"If you want more, we can request some to take home," he commented casually.

"It’s alright." She shook her head. "Sometimes, eating something rarely preserves its value. Otherwise, they’d just be another dish to fill your stomach."

Atlas rocked his head, holding a glass of wine. "Good thinking," he said, observing how she was becoming more relaxed, but not careless. Rather, more confident.

"Surely, Harmony Feast didn’t earn its reputation for nothing," she mused, looking around the beautifully decorated rooftop. While her thoughts about the rooftop were the same as before, the food was amazing.

"Second should face the wall longer," he hummed. "He chose the right place."

Hearing that, Lola looked back at him. She blinked, innocently reminded that for the twins, facing the wall was a reward instead of a punishment.

"Now that I think about it... If you don’t mind me asking," she hummed, continuing when she had his attention. "Chacha and Second mentioned that facing the wall is a reward."

"And?"

"Why? I mean, how?"

Atlas tilted his head as if she’d asked a very obvious question. "Who likes talking to people? Or even seeing them?"

"..."

"My children are skilled in most things," he continued in the same cadence. "However, they weren’t the friendliest."

"Not the friendliest?" She repeated, confused. That was not how she thought of them at all. The twins were the most adorable and innocent angels she had ever met—amazing and simply a blessing in this world.

Atlas studied her reaction and understood it. His children, after all, had treated Lola differently from the start.

"Growing up without a mother had its effects," was all he said. "No matter how skilled they are, they are still children. They longed for a mother’s love."

A moment of silence fell between them. They didn’t resume eating, but simply stared at each other.

"Their mother..." she trailed off, her brows rising as curiosity flickered in her eyes. "I mean, your wife..."

Was she dead?

That was the only explanation she could think of for why the twins didn’t have their mother growing up. She didn’t know what Atlas was like as a husband, but she thought he wasn’t so bad that their marriage would fall apart right after the twins were born. The only logical explanation was that she had died in childbirth.

"Never mind," she retracted, offering him a smile. "Don’t answer that. It was insensitive of me."

"I don’t know where she is, whether she’s dead or alive." To her surprise, he still answered. "Not because I can’t find her or can’t find out, but because I wasn’t interested."

He slowly leaned back in his seat, his eyes fixed on her.

"I have no interest in someone who has abandoned her children outside a person’s home, whatever reason she had." His voice was laced with nothing but calm harshness. "... but I may be wrong."

"Hmm?"

Atlas narrowed his eyes at her, tilting his head a little. Ignoring the confusion in her eyes, he added very quietly. It still reached her ears, though.

"And for once, I wish I were wrong."