Chapter 259: How Could You Not Remember?

Chapter 259: How Could You Not Remember?


[Short Flashback]


Just like any new parent, Atlas wasn’t sure if he was doing anything right. As a single father of two, he thought he’d learned enough from his own parents—but he was wrong. So, the same way he approached any new skill, he spent nights studying and practicing things he never thought he’d need to know.


"One, two... three..." he muttered, brows rising as he studied the diaper he’d just tucked perfectly on a doll. He gave it a light tug to see if it would slip. For the first time, it didn’t.


Slowly, the corners of his mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile. He turned his head toward the crib beside the bed where he’d been practicing. Pushing himself up, he walked over and gazed at the babies sleeping inside.


"See? I can do it too," he whispered, fixing the little blanket over them. But before calling it a night, he idled, staring at them for long minutes, checking their breathing every so often and sighing with relief each time.


"They’re still breathing," he nodded to himself. "Scared me for a second."


Only then did he head back toward the bed, but then he paused and glance at the crib again. He turned on his heel and checked them again. Finally, he dragged the crib closer to his bed, so they were within reach before he allowed himself to fall asleep.


People said his children would be fine with a father like him—that they would learn much from him and thrive under his guidance. But in truth, Atlas felt it was the other way around: he was the one learning because of them.


And even after countless nights spent practicing, learning new skills, sterilizing bottles, and making sure their clothes were spotless, he still often felt like he had no idea what he was doing.


*****


[Present Time]



"Done?" Atlas asked, turning toward the dining area entrance where Lola was dragging herself in.


"Yep." She huffed and went straight to the refrigerator. But before opening it, she glanced at him at the bar counter. "How could Slater be so good at that? He doesn’t just know how to change diapers. He knows how to feed them and even make them burp! I’m actually amazed."


"There are a lot of children in the family. He’s running for best uncle," Atlas explained, watching her face scrunch before she rummaged for water. "He also helped me a lot back then."


"Helped you a lot?" Lola turned, now holding a glass and a pitcher. "Did you hire him as a nanny?"


"No, but I could have," he said with a shrug. "I couldn’t entrust my children to just anyone, so I always took them with me. But some businesses aren’t child-friendly... so Slater stepped in."


Slater hadn’t been an expert at first, but his willingness to ease the burden for his First Brother—who was living abroad as a single parent, surrounded by both allies and enemies—made him invaluable. Unlike their other siblings, Atlas had no partner to fall back on. He had to put food on the table, keep his children safe, and stay alive for those who depended on him.


"I see..." Lola rocked her head slowly, studying him as he swirled his drink. A small smile crept onto her lips. "He’s quite reliable when you need him to, huh?"


"Mhm."


She chugged down her water, steeling herself to bring up what she wanted to talk about. But her voice caught in her throat. In the end, she emptied her glass in silence.


Atlas, meanwhile, stared into the ripples in his drink, deep in thought.


"Lola Young—"


"Atlas!"


They both paused, locking eyes after speaking at the same time.


"Heh... what is it?" she laughed awkwardly. "You should go first."


"It’s alright," he said. "What is it?"


She rubbed the back of her neck, her mouth opening and closing, but the words kept retreating.


"Well, it’s about..." she faltered, conflict flickering in her eyes. "I mean, your nephews. How long are they staying here?"


"I have no idea," he shrugged. "Knowing their parents, they’ll pick them up as soon as they can. They might plan a vacation, but their mother would be crying on the first night for sure."


"Ahh..." Lola nodded. "Well, I don’t mind them being around. Should I hire someone to help look after them? I don’t think Slater can handle all of them, and I doubt I can."


She cleared her throat. "Anyway... what were you about to say?"


Atlas glanced at her briefly but stayed quiet. He drained his glass, set it down, and leaned an arm on the counter. The shift in his demeanor made her brows knit. She looked around, sensing the heaviness in the air.


"That soup I mentioned earlier..." he began quietly, pouring himself another drink. "My brother-in-law accidentally served it to me and others one night. He didn’t know it was his grandmother’s soup. As Slater said, it’s like an aphrodisiac, but stronger."


He paused, raising his glass. "That was six years ago. Because of that night, I had my children."


"..." Lola pursed her lips, nearly choking on the sudden weight in her chest. "Is this... really what you wanted to tell me?"


I don’t like this feeling.


"Mhm." He lifted his gaze to hers. "Does it bother you?"


She hesitated. "Of course. I’m not interested in hearing about your previous affairs or relationships." A lump formed in her throat at the thought of him holding another woman. The image was simply too devastating.


Atlas studied her for a long moment before pushing away from his seat. He walked toward her, fingertips brushing the counter’s edge. Stopping at her side, he lowered his head, pinched her chin, and angled her face to his.


Her cheeks flushed, lips pressed into a frustrated line. Her eyes were rimmed red, as if she were on the verge of tears.


"What?" she murmured.


His jaw tightened, eyes narrowing. "I’m sorry. It seems I said the wrong thing before I got to my point," he said softly. Then his voice dropped lower. "But how could you not remember?"