“Ugh, Rhokar, I’m so sorry,” Ella says as she finally brings the sniffling girl back and gently inserts her into her chair, before immediately grabbing her bowl and feeding her without even sitting down herself. “She got hungry as soon as we arrived, and if I don’t get food in her now, she won’t take it later and then she’ll go to sleep hungry and I…”

“Ella, it’s alright,” I say quietly, and my soft smile remains as I look at her. “Really.”

She bites her lip and absentmindedly stirs her bowl, before finally sitting. “I was going to make creamy chicken pasta for us,” she mutters morosely, before my daughter calls out and Ella gives her another mouthful. “But when I saw the way she fussed I knew what would happen, so I threw some Bolognese I’d frozen the other day into a pan and quickly got the spaghetti going. It’s their favorite…”

Then her shoulders slump and she pouts as she looks at me. “It was going to be impressive. My creamy chicken pasta is a showstopper.”

I can’t help but laugh and reach across to squeeze her fingers. “You managed to get a complete meal done in less than the ten minutes it took me to head to the grocer and back. I am impressed.”

She snorts and squeezes my fingers back, before slipping away so she can go back to feeding. “Shut up. It’s not the same.”

“Well,” I say, as I turn back to Ro, “you can make the pasta for me next time.”

I deliberately say for me instead of us, without being subtle about the ‘next time’ either, and my heart beats stronger with hope when all she does is nod absently and say, “You’ll love it, trust me.”

I take a slow breath and will my hope not to shoot up too high, as I feed my son another mouthful. Ella has taken back the ‘yes’ she’d given me on Saturday, when I’d told her to be mine. That was entirely my fault, I see that now.

But she hasn’t replaced it with a no.

I’ll be damned to the lowest pits of hell if I don’t do everything in my power to change her mind, to agree once more to be mine. My heart tugs within my chest, and I resist the urge to rub it. If there’s even the slightest chance with Ella, I’ll keep trying.

We feed the toddlers in silence for several more minutes, with the girl constantly grabbing at Ella’s spoon to try and feed herself, while Ro continues to calmly accept every mouthful I give him without a fuss. I feel contentment seeping through every fiber of my being. I wonder if this is what the rest of my life could be like.

Now that there’s calm once more, my mind turns back to the little boy’s name, and I spoon him another mouthful before putting down the bowl.

“Ella, did you name our son…” after me? I almost say, but for some reason the words stick in my throat. She looks at me, and I try again. “Did you name him Ro?”

“Oh, god, I haven’t introduced you to them yet! Sorry, Rhokar!” She blushes—actually blushes, which for some reason has my cock stirring in my pants, although I try to ignore it. “His name is Rowan. Ro for short, though.”

She puts the half-empty bowl down in front of the girl, who immediately grabs the spoon and messily begins to feed herself, so I follow suit for Ro and turn to give Ella my attention.

“He’s…named after you, actually. Sort of.” She offers me an awkward smile and shrugs one shoulder. “All I knew of you was the half-name you’d given me, so I looked up names popular in the orc community that started the same way, and settled on Rowan. I didn’t think I’d ever find you again, so I sort of… I don’t know. Wanted him to have as much of a connection with his father as possible, I guess?”

My heart thuds painfully against my chest as I stare at her, and I feel a surge of…something rip through me. Something hot and powerful and overwhelming.

If I’d had any lingering doubts when she’d told me she quickly regretted leaving me behind that morning two years ago, they were completely dashed to smithereens now.

“And the girl?” I ask quietly, not trusting myself to speak above a whisper.

“Her name is Rylah,” she says, and I grip suddenly at the table between us. “None of the girl names that started with ‘Ro’ felt right, so I stuck with ‘R names’, and we ended up with Ro and Ry.”

“W-what?” I stutter, but I can’t even find it in myself to care. “What did you say?”

“Her name?” I nod stupidly, and she smiles in a confused way. “Rylah.”

“That’s my grandmother’s name.” I stare at her in shock, and her smile grows.

“Really? Wow, what are the odds!”

But there are no odds. This didn’t happen by chance. We didn’t meet again by chance, either.

Our encounter in a city we both hadn’t been living in; these children growing inside her when she’d been told she couldn’t get pregnant; even now, this moment, our sitting for dinner in such an amicable way, after all the ups and downs we’ve been through—this isn’t chance.

We’re Fated. I feel it in my heart. I have beenfeeling it all along, but I’ve been too afraid to face it, to hold on to that thought instead of constantly pushing it away and pretending I didn’t understand.

I feel all the pieces crashing together over me, and I’m stunned.

I love you, I think as I look at her, and nothing has ever felt more right.