It was just a picture.
A man.
A woman.
An ocean in the background.
Nothing spectacular about it, the lighting wasn't perfect; the woman had her eyes closed.
But there was love. The way her held her, their fingers laced over her belly, over their child. Smiling, smiling something he was never known to do.
He frowned now hating himself, hating her. That stupid woman who had haunted his dreams for the past sixteen years, the woman who his sister introduced...
Leilani
Their love had been quick, fleeting and hard to overcome, but it was now torn by time and continents. He lived in Japan, had never left it, she lived across the world. He wanted her, missed her, missed their children.
Gaara sighed, allowing the single tear to roll down his cheek before wiping it away. He had been so happy in the picture, only sixteen, she was nineteen. For seven weeks they had each other, they kept in touch, they tried.
Only to fail.
They lost touch, lost each other. He had given in, started to move on. He fingered the small box holding an engagement ring. Maybe now it was time to let the past go, and completely move on.
His phone rang, he wanted to ignore it, just sit here and stew in his grief, but duty calls.
"Gaara."
"Sir, there are two teenagers here, they have requested to see you, shall I send them up?" Security was tight about everything.
"Please, I have nothing better to do." He hung up. It would only take a few minutes for the elevator to bring the teenagers up. He stood from his desk, putting the picture back on the corner he moved to stand by his windows.
Tokyo seemed very bright this night.
The knock on his door drew him back from his thoughts, "Enter." He heard the door open, the scuffling of feet. He turned only when he knew they would be at his desk. "How may I help you?"
The two, unmistakably twins with their dark red hair and green eyes, stared at him. "Are you S. Gaara?"
He frowned, they looked so familiar. "I am. Have we met before?"
The boy shook his head, as the girl took out a picture from her bag, she handed it to him. "Is this you?"
The picture in his hands matched the one on his desk perfectly.
"Are you our father?"