he television camera pulled back, and suddenly four five-year-old children were sitting beside the woman I had divorced because I believed she could never make me a father. Two had my hazel eyes, one had the deep dimple on my right cheek, and within minutes my mother admitted 9she had known3 the truth6 for years0.

I sat alone in my car outside the law office, staring at the scanned documents on my phone.

Elena’s letter was only two pages.

My hands shook as I opened it.

Alex,

I don’t know if you will ever read this.

I hope you do.

I’m pregnant.

The doctor confirmed it yesterday.

There aren’t words big enough to explain what I felt when I heard four heartbeats.

Yes, four.

They are telling me it’s extremely rare, and they are monitoring everything carefully.

I’m scared.

I’m happy.

I’m overwhelmed.

But more than anything, I wish I could tell you in person.

You once told me that if we ever had a child, you would teach them how to ride a bicycle even if it took them a hundred attempts.

I remembered that today.

I imagined you holding four tiny bicycles.

Maybe that’s foolish.

Maybe by the time you read this, you’ll already have decided that our marriage is over.

If that happens, I won’t force you to come back.

But please don’t make a decision about our children without knowing they exist.

They deserve to know their father.

And you deserve to know them.

Elena.

I stopped reading.

I couldn’t continue.