"Doesn't feel real yet?"
"Sometimes. Then the morning sickness hits, and it feels very real." She turned in my arms. "Are we really doing this? Building a nursery in an FBI safe house while preparing to testify against my father?"
"We really are."
"It's insane."
"Completely." I kissed her forehead. "But we're good at insane."
She smiled despite everything. "We really are."
We stood like that for a while, imagining the space filled with cribs and changing tables and all the chaos of twin infants.
"I want them to be safe," Valentina whispered. "That's all I want. For them to grow up without fear, without violence, without any of the darkness we survived."
"They will be." I rested my hand over hers on her stomach. "I promise. Whatever it takes."
"Even if it means testifying? Reliving everything?"
"Even then." I held her tighter. "We end this threat completely. Then we give them the life they deserve."
She nodded against my chest, and I felt her belief in my promise.
By the end of those two weeks after the arrest, Valentina's morning sickness had settled into a predictable routine.
6:47 a.m. Every morning. You could set a clock by it.
I'd learned to wake at 6:45, have ginger tea ready, and a cool cloth prepared. She'd stumble to the bathroom, and I'd follow, holding back her hair, rubbing gentle circles on her back.
"This is so glamorous," she muttered one morning, slumped against me.
"Very." I pressed the cloth to her forehead. "But you're beautiful even like this."
"Liar."
"Honest." I helped her stand and guided her back to bed. "Most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
She managed a weak smile. "You're just saying that because I'm carrying your children."
"I'm saying it because it's true."
I settled her back in bed, made sure she had water and crackers within reach. Her eyes were already drifting closed again—the first trimester exhaustion hitting hard.
"Love you," she mumbled.
"Love you too,principessa. Both of you."
"Both of them, too," she corrected sleepily. "Don't forget there are two."
"Never. All three of you."
She smiled and fell back asleep.
I stood in the doorway watching her rest, one hand protectively over the lives growing inside her, and felt the weight of responsibility settle deeper.
Three people now. Three people I'd die to protect. Keep them all safe. Make sure our children never know the darkness their parents had survived.
The fear was overwhelming.
