My ex-girlfriend was sleeping on the floor at the airport with two children lying beside her—and when she saw me, the color drained from her face.

Here is the exact English translation of Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3 of the story:

Part 1

A few steps from the airport exit, a woman was lying on the floor, sleeping so deeply as if she had spent her entire life on the run. Beside her, two little boys were curled up, huddled together, and by their feet lay an old suitcase with one broken wheel. That was the moment I recognized her face.

Claire.

It had been six years since I last saw her. Six years of telling myself every morning that Claire had simply abandoned me and didn’t want to see me anymore. But now she was lying right in front of my eyes, thin, pale, and completely drained, as if she didn’t even have the strength left to stand on her feet.

One of the boys stirred and opened his eyes. His face was still crumpled from sleep, but I immediately noticed the hair, the eyebrows, and the little dimple on his chin.

It was my chin.

My breath caught in my throat.

By Claire’s shoe lay a small wooden toy airplane. Its wing was broken, but yellow paint was still visible along the crack. I had bought her that toy six years ago, a day before leaving for Lisbon, telling her that one day I would visit every city with her.

She could never let go of things.

— “Claire,” I barely managed to pronounce.

The woman sat up abruptly. Her eyes were confused at first, but then they locked onto me, and all color drained from her face.

— “This is impossible,” she whispered.

— “I’d rather ask something else. Who are these children?”

The boys stared at me, frightened. The older one, holding a single shoe in his hand, stepped in front of the younger one to shield him.

— “Don’t be afraid,” I said, dropping to my knees. “I won’t hurt you.”

Claire seemed not to hear my words. Her fingers gripped the handle of the suitcase. The handle was wrapped in old adhesive tape that squeaked with every movement.

— “How old are they?” I asked.

— “Five.”

That single word rushed into me like the memory of that night six years ago.

At that time, I was supervising the opening of a hotel in Lisbon. I left for only three weeks. When I returned, Claire’s apartment was empty. Her clothes were gone, her phone was switched off, and she didn’t reply to my letters. My mother told me that Claire had decided to leave on her own and wanted nothing more to do with me.

I believed her.

It was the most expensive mistake of my life.

— “Are these my children?” I asked Claire.

Her lips trembled, but she couldn’t answer right away. Then she covered her face with both hands and wept.

— “Yes.”

The noise of the airport vanished in a single second. It was as if the crowd, announcements, and luggage carts sank into distant waters. I could hear only my own heartbeat.

— “Why didn’t you tell me?”

— “Because your mother controlled everything from the very beginning.”

— “What do you mean by that?”

Claire looked into my eyes. There was fear in her gaze, but a weariness far stronger than fear showed through.

— “She told me that if I tried to contact you, she would take the children away from me. She said you would never believe me.”

I couldn’t put words together. My mother, Tamar, had been the most trusted person in my life for years. And she had always greeted Claire with a warm, gentle smile.

— “Where is she now?” I asked.

Claire didn’t get a chance to answer. On the other side of the airport, a man in a black coat appeared. He held a dark leather folder in his hand and was walking directly toward us.

Claire stood up immediately.

— “Nikoloz, we have to go. Right now.”

— “Who is that?”

— “Your mother’s lawyer.”

The man reached us and offered a quiet smile.

— “Mr. Nikoloz, Mrs. Tamar wishes to settle this matter within the family, without any noise.”

— “Where were you for six years?” I asked.

— “The answers are in the folder.”

He moved his fingers toward the lock. Claire squeezed my arm so hard that her nails dug into my skin.

The lawyer placed the folder on the table and reached out to pull the first paper…

Part 2

The lawyer’s fingers touched the first paper, but Claire snatched the folder from the table and hugged it to her chest.

— “No, not here,” she said.

The man raised an eyebrow.

— “Mrs. Claire, you know that hiding the children will only make things more complicated.”

— “I am not hiding anyone. I am protecting them.”

— “From whom?”

Claire gave no answer. And for the first time, I saw how her hands were trembling. A purple mark was visible around her right wrist—as if someone had squeezed it tightly.

— “Who did this to you?” I asked.

— “It doesn’t matter right now.”

— “It matters to me.”

The lawyer took a calm breath.

— “Mr. Nikoloz, the matter of child custody is already under legal consideration. Your mother is prepared to provide them with housing, education, and protection.”

— “Why are you discussing my children with my mother and not with me?”

The man’s smile vanished.

— “Because six years ago, you told her yourself that you would never trust this woman again.”

My blood ran cold.

— “I never said that.”

Claire lowered her head.

— “She told me you were angry with me. She said you were marrying another woman.”

— “What?”

— “I sent you three letters, Nikoloz. All three came back returned. Then I received a message from your name saying that our relationship was over.”

I realized I was remembering something. During that time, Mother often told me that Claire called every day demanding money, and that her phone always seemed turned off. Meanwhile, I was caught up in the chaos of opening the hotel in Lisbon, trusting everything to my mother.

The phone felt heavy in my pocket. I still had the correspondence from six years ago saved, but not a single letter from Claire showed up there.

— “Where were you going?” I asked.

Claire looked at the broken suitcase.

— “I was leaving town. This morning, your mother’s car parked outside my house. The driver told me he had a court order and was going to take the children. I ran to the station, but they found me there, too.”

— “A court order?” I asked the lawyer.

— “A temporary petition.”

— “Show me.”

— “It is not necessary here.”

— “Show me.”

This time, my voice was so sharp that both boys looked up at me. The younger one had a small knitted scarf wrapped around his neck. Three red stars were embroidered on the scarf, and one of them had almost come undone.

The lawyer opened the folder.

— “I am telling you only because you do not know the whole story. Mrs. Claire concealed the birth of the children, refused to clarify paternity, and is now trying to flee the city.”

— “I didn’t refuse paternity,” Claire said softly. “I had no one to tell.”

— “You could have reached out to Nikoloz.”

— “Every path was closed.”

Just then, I heard the familiar sound of high heels from a distance. My mother always approached people the same way: with steady steps, her head held high, and an expression as if everything happening in the room was already under her control.

Tamar stopped in front of us.

— “Nikoloz, come home,” she said. “This woman is trying to exploit your mercy once again.”

Claire took a step back.

— “You told me you were going to take the children.”

Mother looked at her and offered a very soft smile.

— “I only want to protect them.”

— “Why did you never tell me they existed?” I asked.

— “Because Claire wanted money. She made up a pregnancy, then gave birth to the children, and waited for your return.”

— “Then why does one of them look just like me?”

For the first time, a flicker of confusion appeared on Mother’s face.

— “Resemblance proves nothing.”

— “A DNA test will.”

My words hung in the air. Claire looked at me slowly.

— “Are you ready to learn everything?”

— “I’ve been preparing for this for six years without even knowing it.”

From her old suitcase, she pulled out a small paper package. My name was handwritten on it. I saw the letters and recognized them instantly—written on the very same paper where I had once noted down the address of the hotel opening for Claire.

— “I was supposed to hand this to you on the day I first saw you,” she told me. “But now I no longer know whom to trust.”

I was about to open the package when a loud announcement echoed from the airport speakers. Then two police officers walked toward us. The senior officer held a folded document in his hand.

He stopped directly in front of Claire.

— “Mrs. Claire, we have a few questions for you regarding the unlawful relocation of the children.”

Claire pulled the boys tight to her chest.

And I looked at my mother. She stood calmly, and for the first time, I realized she had been anticipating all of this long in advance.

The officer unfolded the document, while Claire reached for my hand and whispered:

— “Nikoloz, if they take them from us now, you will never find out who tore us apart…”

Part 3

The police officer held out the document toward Claire, but I stepped right in front of him.

— “First, read what you are actually signing,” I said.

My mother raised her voice.

— “Nikoloz, don’t make this complicated. These children are in danger.”

— “Then why is your voice trembling?”

— “Because you are under this woman’s influence once again.”

The lawyer snatched the package, but Claire held onto his hand.

— “That is his letter. You cannot take it from him.”

The officer looked at both of them.

— “That is enough. Everyone step aside.”

At that moment, an airport security officer approached and whispered something to the senior police officer. He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen.

— “Mrs. Claire, the application submitted under your name states that the father of the children is unknown. However, something else appears in this package.”

— “I didn’t fill out that application,” Claire said.

I opened the package.

Inside were three old letters, printed copies of messages sent under my name, and a small memory device. The first letter was dated six years ago, on the fourth day after my departure for Lisbon.

“Nikoloz, the doctor told me I am expecting twins. Please call me. I don’t know why you aren’t answering me.”

The second letter read: “I spoke to your mother. She told me you no longer want to see me. If that is true, just tell me yourself once.”

On the third letter, ink smudges looked like dried tears.

“I will have the children anyway. If you ever find out, know that we didn’t abandon you.”

My hands were shaking so violently that I could barely hold the paper.

— “I never received these letters,” I said.

Claire looked at my mother.

— “Now at least tell me where they vanished.”

Tamar went quiet.

The lawyer took the device.

— “You cannot prove anything based on this.”

— “There is an audio recording on it,” Claire said. “Mrs. Marina kept it.”

Marina was my mother’s former secretary. Years ago, she had suddenly resigned and called me only once, but Mother had told me the woman was having mental health issues.

The security officer connected the device to a monitor. The recording played.

First, a woman’s shaky voice came through.

— “I didn’t make up a pregnancy. I am expecting Nikoloz’s children.”

It was Claire’s voice.

Then I heard my mother’s calm response.

— “You will not see him.”

— “Why?”

— “Because my son will not protect you. He will return angry with you as soon as he learns you are asking him for money.”

— “I don’t want money. I need to tell him he’s become a father.”

— “If you contact him even once more, I will take the children away so that you won’t even be able to see their faces. I have enough connections for that.”

The noise of the airport dissolved completely.

My mother’s voice kept playing.

— “I will tell Nikoloz that you vanished on your own. He believes me more than he believes you.”

The recording ended.

Claire leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. The lawyer lowered his head. The police officer stared directly at my mother.

— “Mrs. Tamar, is that your voice?”

Mother moved her lips faintly.

— “The conversation was taken out of context.”

— “You stated that you would take the children.”

— “I was trying to protect them.”

I stepped right in front of her.

— “For six years, you hid my children from me.”

— “You didn’t know what kind of woman she was.”

— “But now I know what kind of mother I had.”

The officer folded the document.

— “An investigation into this matter will begin. For now, the children remain with their mother until the court reaches another decision.”

Claire took her very first deep breath.

I looked down at both boys. The older one was still watching me carefully, but now he was no longer hiding.

— “Are you Dad?” he asked me.

A lump formed in my throat.

— “Yes. If you’ll let me, I will be.”

At those words, my mother pulled out her phone. A message flashed on the screen. She read it, and her expression completely changed.

— “What happened?” the lawyer asked.

Mother slowly lowered her phone.

— “Claire’s former landlord told the police that there was another room in that house. Something was kept there for six years.”

Claire lost all color.

— “Which room?”

Mother looked for the first time not at me, but at the twins.

— “The room where every document received after their birth was being kept…”