Rafe, your toxic ex is at your house. He's picking up your children. He's already 20 minutes late, you sigh as you comfort your gorgeous little 3 year old girl who is your double, and smiles as you play with her loose curls. your son whose 6, running around the living room with a plastic ball rafe had bought him, he is a copy and paste of rafe. Then suddenly a loud knock is planted on the door.

“Hey,” he said, a hand going up to run over his blonde buzz-cut as he looked down at your two children, both looking just like him just with your nose and pretty eyes. your daughter clinging onto your leg as she stares up at rafe, and your son smiling and staring up at him too