Finally alone. The heavy silence of my apartment greeted me like a cold slap after the storm of the day. I tore off my tie, that symbol of an orderly life that had just shattered into pieces, and let my suit fall to the floor in a shapeless heap. My movements were mechanical, driven by a nervous tension that knotted my shoulders.
The scalding bath I took washed only my skin, not the whirlwind in my head. Lying in the water, eyes closed, I replayed the images of the day on a loop: that woman's radiant smile, the unforgettable sensation of those three little bodies snuggled against me, that word… "Daddy"… spoken with a certainty that had pierced me through. What was this cosmic joke? How, in the space of a single day, a single surreal encounter, did I find myself catapulted into the role of a father? My rational mind, the one that managed millions, rebelled. This was complete nonsense, a monumental case of mistaken identity. And yet… a strange feeling, warm and heavy, persisted in the pit of my stomach. An absurd attraction to this vertigo.
The next morning, against all expectations, I woke up in an unusual mood. A lightness. The memory of the children's laughter, of their tiny hands gripping mine, had infused my dreams and colored my awakening. A strange peace. After dressing with unusual care, I headed to Jimin's café. It was our HQ, our sanctuary for foolishness and secrets.
As I pushed open the door, the little bell tinkled softly. The rich smell of coffee and fresh pastries enveloped me. And there they were, all of them, my partners in madness, already seated. A welcome burst of normality. I slid onto the bench next to Hoseok, who was sipping his coffee with concentration.
"So, how were your days, guys?" I asked, trying to regain the light tone of before.
Jimin looked up from his phone with a sigh. "Bland. Monotonous. Aside from serving lattes and croissants, nothing to report."
"He's right," Jin continued, his melancholic gaze lost in his cup. "Our lives are so flat… Devoid of any spark, any exciting love story, don't you think?"
Hoseok nodded with sad conviction. "Jin is absolutely right. We're going in circles."
The contrast between their gloominess and the vibrant chaos that had inhabited my life since yesterday was so violent that a nervous laugh escaped me. It was now or never.
"Guys… Do you remember that completely idiotic bet we made, about… six years ago?" My voice was calm, but I could hear my own heart pounding in my temples.
Jin frowned. "What bet are you talking about?"
I took a breath. The moment of truth. "The bet where my two idiot friends forced my hand into going to donate my sperm at a bank. That famous bet."
A leaden silence fell over the table.
"And because of that stupidity… here I am today with three kids."
The shock was physical. Jin jumped as if electrocuted. "You said WHAT?!"
Hoseok nearly knocked over his coffee. "No way… You're kidding, right?"
"How could you make a bet so… so stupid and irresponsible?!" Jin exploded, moving from stupor to indignation.
Jimin, for his part, was fascinated. "Wait, wait. Tell us. How did you meet them? That's impossible!"
I launched into it, my voice lower. "I had gone to that little kindergarten, as usual, just to observe… And that's when their… when the grandmother saw me. She came towards me with them."
Hoseok whistled between his teeth. "I imagine your kids must look like two peas in a pod for her to pounce on you like that. The resemblance must have been striking."
Jimin, always the teaser, couldn't resist. "But wait… Who's the idiot who used your sorry sperm to make children? There really are people who take anything!"
I glared at him. "What are you insinuating? That I'm that ugly?"
Jin came to my rescue, always the mediator. "Don't listen to Jimin, he's jealous. Your kids must be adorable, right?"
A simple "Hm" sufficed, accompanied by a small involuntary smile I couldn't suppress. That smile said it all.
A glance at my watch pulled me from this confession. Time was ticking. "I have to go," I said, getting up, leaving a trail of unanswered questions behind me. Their incredulous stares followed me to the door.
...........................
The workday was a marathon. The meeting dragged on, paperwork piled up on my desk like a threatening mountain. Yet, at 5 p.m. sharp, as if driven by an instinct stronger than reason, I dropped everything. The visceral need to return to that kindergarten, to see them, had become an obsession.
My little ones. The very expression running through my mind stunned me. How could I be so attached, so hooked on children I had only held in my arms once, twenty-four hours earlier? It was irrational, crazy, but of an absolute obviousness.
I parked my black Hyundai in the now-familiar spot, right in front of the gate. My gaze scanned the empty yard, my heart suddenly tight with sharp disappointment. They weren't there. An absurd void hollowed out inside me. Disappointed, almost hurt, I put a hand on the gearshift, ready to drive back to my sterile existence.
That's when it exploded, that cry. A pure, piercing cry, charged with absolute joy that split the air and froze my blood.
"DADDYYYYYY !!!"
One, two, three living missiles, colorful, rushed down the sidewalk stumbling with happiness, arms wide open, their little faces lit up. My soul leaped. I got out of the car in a fluid motion and crouched down, arms open, ready to receive them. Their impact against my chest, their scent, their muffled laughter in my neck… It was a tidal wave of pure happiness.
As I held them close, eyes closed, absorbing this perfect second, I sensed a presence. Panting breath, charged with emotion, very close.
I looked up.
Time stopped.
A young man stood there, a few steps away, eyes wide, mouth half-open. His face… It was like looking into a mirror distorted by time, or seeing the shadow of my own features reflected in those three little faces. The resemblance was so striking, so obvious, that it became supernatural.
His eyes, identical to those of the little one I held in my arms, scanned my face, then the children's, then mine again. Comprehension, then stupor, then a form of incredulous horror flashed through his gaze.
When he spoke, his voice was but a hoarse whisper, laden with all the absurdity of the situation.
"Fuck… Tell me this is a joke."
The world had shrunk to this sidewalk, to these children in my arms, and to the face of the stranger who was, without a shadow of a doubt, their other father. The owner of the sperm. The mirage made flesh. And faced with his shock, I found no words. Just the deafening silence of the truth that had just exploded in our faces.