18

Elena’s POV

Nine months had gone by like a blur.

So much had changed since that rainy evening by the porch. Elizabeth and I had packed up everything and left the old house behind. It wasn’t easy, but it was necessary. Too many memories. Too many eyes watching us. Too many secrets threatening to be exposed.

We relocated to a quiet part of the city, tucked in a sleepy neighborhood where the sea couldn’t reach us and the noise of the past felt far away. It was our fresh start—just me, Elizabeth, and the life growing inside of me.

The new apartment was smaller, but warm. The living room smelled like fresh paint and cinnamon-scented candles. The walls were cream-colored, the curtains lavender. Elizabeth had picked them herself.

That morning, we had just finished organizing the last of the baby clothes. I stood outside in the tiny backyard, a small plastic basin in front of me as I rinsed a few onesies and bibs. The sun was bright, but the breeze was gentle. It should’ve been a peaceful moment.

But then—

A sharp pain tore through my abdomen.

I froze, one hand clutching the edge of the bucket, the other flying to my belly.

Something felt… different.

The pain was deep. Cramping. Sharp. More than the usual ache.

Then—a warm gush of water between my legs.

I gasped and staggered back.

“Elena!” Elizabeth’s voice came from the kitchen window. She must’ve seen my expression, because the next thing I knew, she was running outside.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?!”

“I—” My voice trembled. “I think… I think my water just broke.”

Her eyes widened. “Oh my God, Elena!”

She didn’t waste another second. She helped me inside, grabbed the hospital bag we’d packed days ago, and within minutes, we were racing down the road in a cab.

I could barely speak through the pain.

Each contraction came harder than the last, twisting my insides like a vice. Sweat dripped down my temples as I gripped Elizabeth’s hand in the backseat.

She didn’t flinch—just kept whispering, “You’ve got this. We’re almost there. Just hang on.”

By the time we reached the hospital, I could barely walk. A nurse brought a wheelchair, and Elizabeth pushed me through the white corridors, heart in her throat.

“Please,” she begged the nurse. “Please take care of her. She’s not just my friend—she’s my sister.”

The nurse gave her a kind smile. “We understand. She’s in good hands.”

They rolled me away, and I saw the panic in Elizabeth’s eyes as they told her to wait outside. She wanted to come with me. I could see it in her face.

The next few hours were a blur of lights, cries, pressure, and pain. I don’t remember screaming, but I must have—I lost my voice by the end of it.

And then—a wail.

Followed by another.

Two distinct cries, seconds apart.

“She did it!” one of the nurses gasped. “It’s twins!”

I barely had the strength to smile, but tears rolled down the sides of my face.

A boy.

A girl.

My babies.

Alive. Breathing. Real.

When I woke up properly again, they were lying beside me in soft pink and blue wraps. So small. So perfect. The boy had his father’s nose. The girl, my eyes. I didn’t know how to feel.

I loved them.

Instantly.

Completely.

Even though their father didn’t love me back.

Even though I had gone through everything alone.

They were mine now. And I was theirs.

The door creaked open, and Elizabeth stepped in cautiously.

I watched her face change the moment she saw us—mouth open, eyes shining, both hands over her heart.

“Oh… my God,” she breathed.

She rushed to the bed, eyes darting from one baby to the other. “Elena, they’re… they’re beautiful. I mean, they’re literally… wow.”

Her voice cracked at the end.

I smiled through my exhaustion. “I know.”

She stroked the baby girl’s tiny cheek. “They’re so perfect. You did it.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t listen to the world,” I whispered. “There were times… I thought of ending it. Of giving up. But look at them. They’re here.”

She nodded, tears falling freely now. “And they’re going to have the best life.”

That was when we both agreed: the babies would stay with Elizabeth’s mother in the countryside for a while. She’d always wanted more children and had room in her heart and her home to help raise them. It would give me time to heal… and time to finish what I started with school.

But joy didn’t last long without shadows.

Two days later, the hospital informed us we had a huge problem: the bills.

They were overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

Apparently, birthing twins, overnight care, NICU checks—even though both babies were fine—had piled up costs beyond what we’d prepared for.

I sat on the hospital bed, stunned, holding my sleeping daughter as Elizabeth argued with the admin at the reception.

“We don’t have this kind of money,” she said. “Can’t we pay in installments?”

“No installment plans for cases like this,” the nurse said gently. “I’m sorry.”

I was panicking.

Would they take the babies?

Would they report us?

But then, like a miracle—someone came through.

A woman walked in that afternoon. Polished, polite, dressed in business casual. She introduced herself as the assistant to a CEO named “Mr. J.”

“I believe there’s a young woman here who just had twins?” she asked.

“That’s us!” Elizabeth jumped up. “Is… something wrong?”

“No. Quite the opposite,” the assistant said, smiling. “Mr. J has chosen to clear the medical bills. You don’t owe anything.”

My mouth dropped open.

“What? Who is Mr. J?”

“I’m afraid he prefers to remain anonymous. But I’ll let him know you were grateful.”

Tears sprang to my eyes. “Please… tell him I want to thank him personally.”

“I’ll let him know,” the woman said warmly. “He doesn’t like attention, but I’ll deliver your message.”

And just like that, she was gone.

We were stunned. The relief felt surreal. It felt like divine intervention. A stranger had saved us from drowning.

Later that day, the hospital discharged us.

Elizabeth held the door open as I stepped outside for the first time in days, both babies cradled in their warm wraps.

We looked at each other and laughed.

“This man,” Elizabeth said, shaking her head. “Whoever he is—he’s heaven-sent.”

I smiled, looking down at the twins in my arms.

“Yes. He really is.”

That night, we took turns watching over the babies, feeding them, rocking them gently to sleep. They cooed softly in their cribs, full and content.

No more hospital noise.

No more strangers.

No more fear.

Just me, Elizabeth, and the two tiny miracles that had given me a new reason to live.

I didn’t know who this CEO was. But something about the initials “Mr. J” pulled at something deep in me. A whisper. A familiar tug.

But for now… I let it go.

I focused on what I had. What mattered.

We were safe.

The babies were healthy.

And that was it.