“I… I didn’t even know.”
“You were only a few weeks along,” the nurse said, beaming. “They’re strong. We didn’t want to say anything until you were stable. But they’re okay. You’re okay.”
I turned my head slightly and saw Noah standing in the doorway — frozen. He must’ve overheard.
His eyes were wide, jaw slack. For the first time, the ever-fearless, furious man looked…completely undone.
He slowly stepped forward, like he was walking into a dream.
“I’m—going to be a father?” he said, barely above a whisper.
I nodded, eyes brimming.
“Withtwins.”
And for a moment, everything paused. All the pain. The darkness. The war.
In its place… hope.
Fragile, fierce, undeniable.
We were still healing. Still bleeding.
But for the first time, we weren’t just surviving.
We were beginning again.
Noah
1 year later
It still didn’t feel real. The warmth of the spring breeze.
The laughter of children echoing through the garden.
The way Liz’s hair danced beneath the cherry blossom tree like it was part of the wind.
This life —ourlife — it was never part of the original plan. We weren’t built to dream like this. We were built to survive.
And yet… here we were.
Lillian’s garden was in full bloom. Blush pink petals fluttered through the air like soft confetti. The tree she planted years ago stood tall and full, casting delicate shadows over the woman I loved as she strolled beneath its canopy, her fingers tracing the edge of a blooming branch.
She looked ethereal. Effortless. Like sunlight wrapped in silk, and just beyond her — Adonis and Liam sat in the grass, cradling the tiny newborns.Ourtwins. One in each of their arms, their massive hands comically gentle as they tried to rock them in sync.
Adonis cooed —cooed— and the baby blinked up at him like she already had him wrapped around her finger.
Liam was singing off-key to the other, who somehow managed to fall asleep through it.
I would’ve laughed.
But instead, I stood at the edge of it all — still. Quiet.
Terrified.
My hand dipped into my pocket, fingers curling around the small velvet box. My thumb rubbed over it like a nervous habit. I’d been carrying it for three weeks. Waiting for the right moment. The right breath.
But now, with her barefoot in the grass and our babies safe and loved only feet away — my chest felt like it was collapsing under the weight of it.
