Semua Bab Pregnant With My Twin Sister’s Fiancé’s Baby: Bab 321 - Bab 329

The travel brochures were spread across the penthouse coffee table like a fan of possibilities.Amalfi Coast. Kyoto. The Maldives."I like the idea of a villa," Noah said, picking up a glossy pamphlet. "Somewhere with a private chef and zero Wi-Fi.""You say that now," Aria said, looking up from her iPad where she was checking flight schedules. "But by day three, you'll be trying to construct a router out of a coconut.""I've evolved," Noah insisted. "I can handle being disconnected. I'm a zen master now."Aria laughed. It was a warm, easy sound. The house was quiet—truly quiet, with all the children out of the nest—and for the first time in twenty years, the silence didn't feel like a prelude to chaos. It felt like freedom."Italy," Aria decided. "We can eat pasta, drink wine, and sleep until noon.""Sold," Noah said.He leaned back on the sofa, stretching his arm along the backrest. He looked at her with a lazy, contented affection."You look a little green," Noah noted. "Did the su

The delivery room was quiet.It wasn't the eerie, terrified silence of the ambulance ride with Sienna. It wasn't the heavy, drug-induced silence of the magnesium drip. It was a warm, expectant hush, like an audience waiting for the curtain to rise on the final act of a beloved play.Aria lay back against the pillows. The monitors beeped a slow, steady rhythm. Beep... beep... beep."Pressure is perfect," Dr. Sarah Evans said, checking the readouts. "Contractions are regular. You're doing great, Aria."Aria looked at Noah.He was sitting in the chair beside the bed, holding her hand. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo or a suit. He was wearing a soft grey t-shirt and jeans. He looked older than the man who had paced this same hospital floor years ago—the silver in his beard was more pronounced, the lines around his eyes deeper—but he also looked lighter."You're not pacing," Aria noted, a small smile touching her lips between breaths."I don't need to pace," Noah said. He brought her hand to hi

The estate kitchen was a whirlwind of Thanksgiving prep, a symphony of clattering pans, laughter, and the rich scent of roasting turkey and sage.Aria stood at the island, chopping celery for the stuffing. She wasn't just cooking for the immediate family this year; the guest list had expanded again.Theo was home from Paris, looking impossibly chic in a scarf and a blazer that probably cost more than Aria’s first car. He was currently regaling Liam and Hope with stories about a street artist in Montmartre who painted with espresso.But the real focus of the day wasn't the turkey, or even Theo’s return.It was Emma.Emma had arrived an hour ago from D.C., and she hadn't come alone.David was standing by the window, talking to Noah. He was tall, lanky, with kind eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses and a cardigan that looked soft enough to sleep in. He was a social worker, Emma had said. He worked with at-risk youth in Anacostia.He was nice. He was polite. He brought wine.And Noah was watc

The phone call came six weeks after the wedding, on a Sunday morning when Aria was enjoying the rare luxury of an empty house.Noah was at the golf course with Julian—a sport he claimed to hate but played religiously because it was the only time his brother stopped talking about litigation. Liam and Theo were hiking. Hope and Lila were at a museum.Aria sat in the sunroom, a cup of tea in hand, watching a cardinal build a nest in the oak tree outside.Riiing.She picked up her cell. Emma."Hey, sweetie," Aria said. "How's the honeymoon phase?""It's... over," Emma said. Her voice was small. Tremulous.Aria sat up straighter. "What happened? Did you fight?""No," Emma said. "We didn't fight. I just... Mom, I need you.""I'm here," Aria said, already reaching for her car keys. "Where are you?""I'm at home," Emma said. "Can you come over? David is at work, and I... I don't want to be alone.""I'm on my way."The drive to Emma’s townhouse in Brooklyn took forty minutes. Aria spent every