Three babies.
The universe is not funny.
The universe is a MENACE!
I took a deep breath, then let it out slowly before I walked back into the exam room. Athena was still on the table, still smiling, still looking at the ultrasound screen like it showed something beautiful instead of something terrifying.
“There you are!” she said. “Look! You can see all three of them now. Baby A, Baby B, and Baby C.”
I looked at the screen.
Three tiny forms. Three separate heartbeats.
Three lives that were going to depend on me for everything.
“They’re perfect,” Athena said softly.
“They’re terrifying,” I corrected.
“They’re both.”
“How are you so calm about this?”
“Because the universe—”
“If you say, ‘The universe has a plan,’ I’m going to lose my mind.”
She laughed. “The universe has a plan.”
“Athena—”
“And so do you. I can see it in your eyes. You’re already planning.”
She was right.
I was already planning.
Three cribs—convertible, with adjustable mattress heights.
Three car seats—rear-facing, highest safety ratings.
Nursery layout—optimal traffic flow, organized by function.
Feeding schedule—staggered to maximize sleep.
Diaper station—multiple locations throughout the apartment.
Budget—Oh God, the budget!
“Julien?” Athena said gently.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. You’re doing the thing where you mentally organize everything.”
“I am not.”
“You are. I can tell. Your eyes get this distant look and your jaw clenches and—”
