Explanation

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"That doesn't change the fact that I have a lot to tell and explain to you."

"And that I'm mad at you for hiding our kids from me."

"You didn't seem angry a few minutes ago."

"I wanted to have a serious talk with you before all this, I tried. But seeing you, smelling you, being so close, after so long, I lost control. I couldn't feel anger, I just wanted you. After so long away I almost forgot the effect you have on me, I lose my mind and my brain seems to shut down."

"I feel the same, I always have."

We were facing each other, he was stroking my hair, and for a few seconds it seemed like nothing had changed.

"I wanted to tell you about them, I found out I was pregnant two weeks after I left, I was following Mahamud, and I felt like I would always pick him up the next day, so I thought: Tomorrow I'll pick him up and come back, I'll tell George everything and everything will be fine. But the days went by and the pregnancy advanced, it was a risky pregnancy, I needed to spend a lot of time in the hospital, and I ended up dedicating myself less to looking for Mahamud. Until at 6 months of pregnancy I had a bleed and they were born, prematurely. They were very difficult days and I was very afraid of losing them both. I spent a few days in the ICU, and the thing I wanted to do most was call you, tell you everything and ask you to stay there with me. But Mahamud would know and not only would the two of us be in danger, but the twins would be too, and the thought of something happening to them would paralyze me. Then I turned to motherhood, and taking care of these two is a lot of work. I kept a team investigating Mahamud , but I had to get away."

"I understand that you wanted to protect me, and protect them. But it doesn't change the fact that I'm still upset that you didn't tell me."

"And you have every right to stay."

He let go of my hair and was going to walk away, but I grabbed his arm and turned around, pulling him into a spoonful hug.

"But be upset hugging me, just a little longer, we'll have plenty of time to talk yet."

Being with him there was my dream come true, but one of my biggest fears still haunted me, my stomach twisted just thinking about it, and I got nervous.

What if he found someone in that time? It was three years. Three years away...

"I know that a conversation or sex doesn't solve our story, but I believe we can solve it together. Unless you've found someone in the meantime." I turned to face him, he was expressionless, serious and mute.

"We'd still manage to parent them, and remain friends." He was still mute, he stared at me without saying a word, noises in the other room caught our attention, I jumped out of bed and started to get dressed again.

"It must be my father."

George got dressed too and we went into the other room. My father had just arrived and his astonished face when he saw George was priceless.

"What's going on? Why is George here?"

"Junior found him." My mom responded quickly.

The twins played at a small table next to us, not understanding the seriousness of the situation we were in.

"How did you find out about this event?" My dad asked trying to understand.

"I received an invitation letter."

"It's an agent-only event, it must have been Mahamud. Do you still have the letter with you?"

"Yes I have." George went into the room we were in and pulled a small white envelope out of his bag.

"But why would he doing this? Why would he put George here? We weren't supposed to be apart, wasn't that his plan? That's why he met his one and a half year olds just today, to protect everyone. And then Mahamud comes and... Argh."

I screamed, lost control, only to realize later that I had scared the twins. Perhaps the fact that George was completely silent when I asked him if he found anyone unsettled me even more. He probably had someone, girlfriend, maybe even fiancée, wife. It was three years, not three days or three months.

I turned so the twins wouldn't see me crying, put my hands over my face to hide my tears, and almost startled when I felt a touch on my elbow, subtle and gentle. It was George, he grabbed my wrist with his thumb and forefinger, and stretched out my thin arm as I wrapped it around his waist, making my face bury into his chest for a hug. His gesture of consoling me brought me peace.

"He wants control. It's always been about that."

My mother said as she circled the small hotel table.

"We need to find out who in the agency works for him. The day George was shot, Mahamud got word that I was coming, someone inside said it, and his knowledge of this event proves that to us yet again." My dad said and then turned to me. "I would never let the information leak that you would be the speaker, it was supposed to be the safest conference in the world, I would not let my grandchildren be broughts if it wasn't, then it's someone from our circle."

"Wait, your speech? Are you the software speaker?" George asked as he pulled away from me and grabbed my shoulders, almost shaking me.

"Yes, I developed the software, in the search for Mahamud and the file he stole, I ended up developing the algorithm, which became the software, and something good to help with investigations."

"It doesn't really surprise me, you've always been brilliant at everything."

Now he smiled and stared at me, that look and smile combo that made me fall in love with him.

I smiled back, and had an insight.

"We need to cross check the information of the agents who were on the day of the shooting, and those who were involved in the organization of the event, I know there are many, but some name must draw attention."

"You're right daughter, I'll get the files right now."

My dad said as he pulled the notebooks out of the bags. We crossed the files and 15 agents called attention, all were close and friends, which made it even more difficult to investigate. Each of us took a notebook and some folders, opened the files and started looking for any possible connection between them and Mahamud. After a few hours, my parents went to dinner. It was just me and George, the twins and a few agents doing security.

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