Ezio's hand wrapped around my finger with a determined grip. Eva's eyes tracked toward my voice, focusing with surprising awareness.
"You're both doing so well. Getting stronger every day."
Nurse Sarah appeared, checking monitors with practiced efficiency.
"They had a good night," she reported. "Ezio's taking two ounces every three hours, which is excellent. Eva's respiratory numbers improved overnight—we might try weaning her off CPAP in a few days if this continues."
"Really?"
"Really. She's a fighter, Mr. Valestri. They both are." She smiled. "Premature twins at thirty-four weeks doing this well? You're very lucky."
Lucky. I'd never felt lucky until these two tiny humans proved they were stronger than everything trying to kill them.
"Thank you," I said. "For everything."
Valentina appeared an hour later, moving slowly, one hand on her healing incision.
"You're supposed to be resting," I said, immediately moving to support her.
"I rested. Now I need to see my babies."
I helped her to the rocking chair between the isolettes and opened both ports so she could reach them simultaneously. One hand on Ezio, one on Eva. Both babies settled under her touch.
"Hi, my loves," she whispered. "Mama's here. You both did so well last night."
I watched her with our children, and something in my chest cracked open. This woman had given me everything—family,hope, a future worth fighting for. And I'd almost lost all three of them yesterday.
My phone buzzed. Domenico: Outside. Can I come up?
Valentina nodded without looking away from the babies.
Come to the NICU. Floor 3.
Domenico appeared a few minutes later, carrying a gift bag that said "It's Twins!" in obnoxiously glittery letters.
Despite everything, I almost smiled.
"Really? Glitter?"
"Babies deserve glitter." He set the bag down and approached the isolettes with uncharacteristic hesitation. "Can I see them?"
"Meet your godchildren," Valentina said.
He peered in at Ezio first. "Madonna. He's so tiny."
"Five pounds, two ounces. Good size for thirty-four weeks."
"He looks like you—same serious expression." Domenico moved to Eva's isolette. "And she's even smaller."
"Four pounds, nine ounces. But getting stronger every hour."
Domenico stared at both babies with complete, unguarded awe.
"They're perfect," he said, voice rough. "Absolutely perfect."
"They are." I moved beside him. "We talked about this before they were born, but now they're here. Now it's real. I want you to be their godfather. Padrino. The old way, with witnesses and everything."
He turned to me, eyes wet. "Alessio—"
