When Phainon and Mydei learned that you were pregnant, they were both distraught. Their world, usually full of bravado and easy rivalry, collapsed overnight, replaced by a whirlwind of despair and hope. They literally followed you around like shadows, begging, pleading, demanding to be allowed to be near, waiting outside your door, bombarding your phone with messages. But you were an impregnable fortress, cold and silent. You pushed them away with a force that was unexpected from you, keeping silence like an oath. You did not say a word about which of them was the father, leaving them alone with a burning, jealous uncertainty. And each, deep down, was absolutely, fanatically sure that he was the one who gave you this miracle.

Time passed, filled with viscous anticipation and gnawing anxiety. And so they both, as agreed - although it was the most painful agreement in their lives - came to be discharged from the maternity hospital. They stood in the bright, sun-drenched hall, on opposite sides of the aisle, like two warring flanks, not looking at each other, clutching bouquets of flowers in their sweaty palms - scarlet roses for Mydei and white lilies for Phainon.

The door opened, and both of their hearts sank. But when, instead of one child, the nurse, smiling, rolled out two cradles at once, the men were speechless. Their eyes widened in shock, their brains refused to perceive what they saw.

In the first cradle, wrapped in a blue blanket, a little boy was peacefully snoring. His tiny fists were clenched at his cheeks, and on his face, under sparse fluffy hair the color of copper wire, a sunbeam played. Thin, almost transparent eyelashes cast golden shadows on her cheeks. And her nose - small, with a perky hump - was an exact, miniature copy of Mydei's nose.

Mydei made a sound, a cross between a sob and a laugh. His face lit up with such blinding joy that it seemed to have become a source of light itself. He took a step forward, reaching out his hand, but afraid to touch, as if the baby were made of sunlight. "This... this is my son!" he exclaimed, his voice breaking from the surging emotions. "I made her twins! I am a father!"

But his triumph did not last long. Phainon, pale and stunned, silently pointed to the second cradle. They came closer, and the air seemed to escape from their lungs at the same time.

There, in a pink lace cocoon, lay the baby. Her eyes, wide open, were the color of the summer sky - bright, clear, bottomless blue, just like Phainon's. And on her head, contrary to all expectations, was a whole shock of snow-white, fluffy hair, which was already curling furiously in mischievous strands. The girl looked at the two giants bending over her with a serious, studying look, and then Phainon saw it. On her tiny leg was a small birthmark, shaped like a butterfly's wing. The same mark that he had seen on his thigh all his life.

The silence hung thick and ringing. All doubts, all rage, all questions - everything evaporated at once, leaving behind only a stunning, incredible reality.

Phainon slowly raised his gaze to Mydei, his blue eyes reflecting the same silent shock. "It seems..." his voice was a quiet, broken whisper, full of reverent horror and amazement. "It seems that we are both fathers..."

They looked at the boy — a living portrait of Mydei, then at the girl — a miniature copy of Phainon. Two children. One woman. But from different fathers.

The year flew by in an instant, filled with sleepless nights, first smiles, unsteady steps and a sea of happy tears. Both Phainon and Mydei, putting aside their former rivalries, selflessly helped you. They built a fragile but solid schedule of shifts, each devoting himself to his child with the zeal of a new convert: Phainon, with adoration in his blue eyes, fussed over little Eva, and Mydei, patient and gentle, tried to tame the energy of his red-haired son Aris.

A quiet evening. The cozy apartment smelled of formula, baby powder, and something tasty left over from dinner. You were lounging on the couch, absentmindedly watching some TV show, enjoying the rare moments of peace. Phainon, sitting on the soft carpet, was fully participating in the doll tea party that Eva was organizing. His large, usually so serious hands held a tiny porcelain cup with incredible care, and he spoke for the bear in a thin, funny voice, causing the girl to burst into happy, silvery laughter. In the other corner of the room, Mydei, lying on his stomach, with excitement in his yellow eyes, was trying to explain to Aris the principle of controlling the car on the remote control. The boy, whose red hair stuck out in all directions, with the serious look of a scientist, poked the remote control in all directions except the right one, and the machine senselessly hit the legs of the chair.

"No, son, look here, this button," Mydei said patiently, and in his voice, through the slight exasperation, there was boundless tenderness.

The idyll was so perfect, so fragile, that it seemed that one wrong move could destroy it. And this move followed.

As if by an invisible signal, both men met each other’s eyes. The same determination, long accumulated and nurtured, could be read in their eyes. Almost simultaneously, they rose from the floor. Phainon gently picked up Eva, who was still protestingly reaching for her dolls, and Mydei carefully picked up Aris in his arms, thrusting the treasured remote control into his hand. They carried the children into a large playpen filled with soft blocks and stuffed animals, making sure they were safe.

Then they returned to the sofa. The air was electric. They sat down on either side of you, and the cozy atmosphere instantly gave way to tense anticipation. The television was now just a background, a meaningless flicker of images.

Phainon was the first to break the silence. He turned to you, and his pale, sharp face was incredibly serious. He took her hand in his, his long, cool fingers squeezing her palm gently. "I love you very much," he began, and his quiet, deep voice sounded with unusual warmth. "And I love our Eva madly. Every day, looking at her, I see in her our miracle." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "I want to be your husband. I want to wake up next to you every morning. And I want Aris to always know that he has a father. I will accept him as my son, I will take care of him, protect him and love him as if he were my own. We will be a family. Big, friendly and real. Please, marry me."

He released her hand and, without taking his eyes off her, pulled out a small velvet box from the pocket of his simple but neat trousers. Inside, on the dark velvet, lay an elegant silver ring with a small, but sparkling with pure light, diamond. It was modest, but there was incredible tenderness and some kind of aching sincerity in it.

Before you had time to process anything, you felt a light but confident touch on your thigh. Mydei's hand lay there, his thumb gently stroking the fabric of her home pants. He leaned toward you, and his red hair cast copper highlights under the lamplight.

"You," his voice sounded thicker, more insistent, all his confidence and strength could be heard in it. "Aris has a father. A real one, a blood one. And a boy needs a father in life, he needs an example. I love you," he looked at you with such intensity that it seemed he saw right through her. "I adore our son. And I will love Eva as my own daughter. I will give her everything her heart desires. I will provide for you, protect you. Marry me."

He took out his box. It was larger, made of dark, polished wood. Inside, dazzlingly sparkling in the light of the chandelier, lay a massive ring of white gold with a huge, perfectly cut diamond that played with all the colors of the rainbow. It was a statement ring, a ring-promise of luxury and stability.

Now they both looked at you. Two sentences. Two futures. Two completely different men, the fathers of your children. The silence in the room hung thick and viscous, broken only by the carefree babble of children playing behind the fence.

Now the choice is yours.