I study him for a long moment, like I’m trying to see directly through him. He seems confident, like there’s no doubt in his mind.
The technician walks in, like she’s stepping onto a sitcom set—too bright, too chipper for the tension still in the air. If she notices the awkwardness, she doesn’t say anything.
“Alright, Ms. Resse,” she says, glancing at her chart. “Looks like you’re in good shape despite the incident—just a few bruises from when you hit the ground. Now let’s check everything and make sure the baby’s doing alright.”
Baby. The word still feels so new and strange, even though I’m getting farther along. I sit on the bed as she wheels in an ultrasound machine.
She pauses. “Have you had an ultrasound done yet?”
I shake my head. “I was supposed to have my first done at my two-month mark a week ago, but I rescheduled for later this week since everything’s been so insane.”
Her eyebrows raise. “Oh, so this is the big moment then?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s get you lying back comfortably,” she says.
Sasha drifts closer. “I’ll be right here.” His hand brushes the edge of the hospital bed as he stands back.
The truth is, I don’t know what I want from him. Part of me wants him to take my hand, hold me through this process, and tell me everything’s going to be okay. Another part wants him out of here, not even in the damn room.
“Now this is going to be a little cold.” The technician raises my shirt a bit and begins spreading some cool gel onto my belly. I shiver, the sensation strange.
She places the wand on my stomach. For some reason, it makes me flinch at first. The monitor hums to life, static blooming into shape. Sasha leans forward, total interest in his eyes.
The tech frowns slightly, adjusts the wand, then her face brightens. “Well, that’s some news.”
“What?” Sasha and I say at the same time.
She turns the screen more toward me. At first, I’m confused.
Then I get it.
Two pulses flash in tandem, overlapping in rhythm. I hear them. Two distinct whooshes, two heartbeats.
Twins.
Sasha’s voice drops to a whisper. “Two?”
“Twins,” the tech says, beaming. “And both heartbeats sound as healthy as you’d hope. Congratulations.”
The wordtwinsexplodes softly in my mind. I cover my mouth. The room blurs. Sasha steps over and grips the edge of the bed, like the ground’s moving beneath him. He looks stunned, almost reverent.
For a long moment, everything else vanishes—sirens, gunfire, arguments, mergers. It’s all just static now, swallowed up by the sound of two tiny hearts. The world is nothing but these two little whooshing rhythms.
“Twins.” I say the word out loud to myself, trying to wrap my head around it.
Sasha turns toward me, and for once there’s no armor. Just awe. “You’re carrying two children. You’re amazing.”
Tears sting my eyes before I can stop them. “Don’t say things like that—I might start forgiving you.”
He gives a small, unsteady smile. “Then I’ll say it again.”
I glance back at the monitor, watching the two twin pulses shimmer in the dark. For the first time in the last few days, I don’t feel fear. Just hope. Happiness.
The tech leaves, but not before handing me a printout—two small silhouettes, side by side. I clutch it carefully to my chest.
Sasha sits down on the small stool by the bed. For a time, neither of us says a word. But it’s a good silence… more like a truce. His hand moves slowly, hovering near mine. He waits. I don’t pull away. When his hand falls gently onto mine, another flash of happiness runs through me.
