SAESHA POV Morning crept in slowly, warm and gold. For a long moment I just lay there, listening. No crying. No thunder of little feet. Just Elian’s soft breathing between us and the birds outside waking one by one. Alex stirred first, stretching carefully so he wouldn’t wake Elian. “How’s our dragon?” he whispered. I pressed the back of my hand to Elian’s forehead. Cool. Normal. “Better,” I murmured. “Still sleeping.” Alex exhaled in relief and brushed a thumb across our son’s cheek. “He scared the life out of me last night.” “Me too.” I smiled faintly. “But you handled it.” He grinned. “Parenthood: one part instinct, nine parts panic.” --- When Elian finally blinked awake, the first thing he said was, “Can dragons have pancakes?” His voice was raspy but sure, the worst of the pain gone. Alex laughed quietly. “Only the brave ones.” Elian nodded solemnly. “I’m brave.” “That settles breakfast then,” I said, ruffling his hair. “Pancakes for everyone.” --- Downstairs,
SAESHA POV It started with a wobble. Aira had been standing on her own for weeks, balancing on anything she could find — the coffee table, my leg, even the back of poor Aran, who tolerated her antics with saintly patience. But that morning, while I was folding laundry and Alex was fixing something in the kitchen, she decided it was time. She pushed herself up, swaying slightly, eyes wide and bright. Aran clapped once, like a proud little cheerleader. Then—one step. A shaky second. A third. And boom. Down she went, straight onto her padded bottom. The sound that followed wasn’t crying — it was laughter. Loud, delighted, triumphant baby laughter. Alex came rushing in. “What happened?” I was already grinning. “She walked.” He froze, eyes wide. “No way. Wait—she did? Without me?” Before I could answer, Aira pulled herself up again and took two more steps toward him, arms out like a tiny superhero. Alex crouched down, laughing. “Okay, okay, I see you! Come here, brave girl
SAESHA POV There are days that creep up on you quietly — the ones you know are going to mean something, even if they look ordinary at first glance. This morning was one of them. Elian’s first day of preschool. He was standing by the door in a tiny blue backpack, curls freshly brushed (for now), shoes on the wrong feet, and the kind of grin that made my heart melt and ache all at once. “Mama, look!” he said proudly, holding out a crayon box. “I got my color army!” Alex chuckled, crouching down to fix his shoes. “You mean crayons, buddy.” Elian squinted. “No. They fight boredom.” Alex laughed. “Can’t argue with that.” I knelt beside them, adjusting his collar and trying not to cry. “You ready, baby?” He nodded, serious now. “I big. I learn numbers and stories and… snack time.” “Very important,” Alex said solemnly. Elian grinned. “You come pick me, right?” “Always,” I whispered, kissing his forehead. --- The twins were strapped in the stroller by the door, watching the sc
SAESHA POV The smell of frosting, balloons, and baby lotion — that was our house today. Aira and Aran’s first birthday. I’d spent half the morning stringing up pastel garlands across the living room while Alex wrestled with an arch of golden balloons that refused to cooperate. Elian was in charge of sprinkles, which quickly turned into a sprinkle explosion. “Buddy!” Alex laughed, brushing rainbow dots off his shirt. “Not on me!” Elian giggled uncontrollably. “It’s decoration, Papa!” I shook my head, laughing as I spread icing on the cake. “You said you wanted help,” I reminded Alex. “Help, yes. Chaos, no,” he said, pulling a sprinkle from his hair. “Same thing in this house,” I teased. --- Clara arrived first — her arms full of gifts and her smile soft and proud. She’d been there through everything: the panic, the hospital nights, the tiny victories. Seeing her now, holding Aira in one arm and Aran in the other, made my chest ache with gratitude. “You two are miracles,”
SAESHA POV The first sound I heard was laughter. Not the quiet kind — the wild, contagious, way-too-early-in-the-morning kind. I blinked awake to find Elian standing at the edge of the bed, hair sticking out in every direction, one sock missing, clutching a toy dinosaur in each hand. “Mama! Papa! Wake up! Babies are awake too!” Alex groaned beside me, burying his face in the pillow. “Already?” “Yes!” Elian said proudly. “They talking!” That got my attention. I sat up quickly. “Talking?” He nodded seriously. “They say ‘Da-da’ and ‘ba-ba’ and… ‘goo!’” Alex cracked one eye open, smiling. “Goo, huh? That’s advanced.” Elian climbed onto the bed, landing squarely on Alex’s stomach. “See! They talk like that!” Alex let out a dramatic oof, laughing despite the hit. “Okay, okay, Commander Bean. Lead the way.” --- We followed him to the nursery — and sure enough, there they were. Aira and Aran, sitting in their crib, facing each other like they were having a full conversation in
SAESHA POV The house was finally still. The kind of stillness that felt earned — not silence, but peace. The twins were asleep, curled up in their cribs with matching expressions that almost made me laugh. Elian had passed out mid-story, one hand on his toy truck, mouth open in that deep toddler sleep that nothing short of thunder could break. I stood by the door for a moment, just watching them all, my heart too full to move. Then I tiptoed out and found Alex in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with the faintest smile and two mugs of tea waiting. He held one out without a word. “Peace offering,” he said softly. I took it, our fingers brushing. “From what battle?” He smiled. “The daily one. Against chaos.” I laughed quietly, setting the mug on the counter beside his. “We survived another day.” “Barely,” he teased, brushing my hair from my face. “But you still look like magic.” I rolled my eyes. “You’ve been awake for eighteen hours, Alex.” “Exactly,” he said. “T