جميع فصول : الفصل -الفصل 20

*Bella’s POV* The nights stretched in a way that the days never did. Time loosened its grip, spilled out between the seconds, and suddenly there was too much of it—too much quiet, too much space for memory to settle in places I could not reach and push it out from. I sat curled into the corner of Clara’s couch, the blanket pulled tight around my shoulders, my knees drawn up like I could make myself smaller, like I could fold everything inside me into something manageable if I tried hard enough. The rain had been falling for hours. It did not crash or rage. It lingered. A steady whisper against the windows, a soft, persistent rhythm that seeped into the room until it felt like it was part of me. It reminded me of something I could not name, something that sat just beneath the surface of my thoughts. I reached for the cup on the table and paused halfway. My stomach turned before my fingers even closed around it, a slow, warning twist that climbed up my throat. I pulled my ha

*Bella’s POV* Then a cry cut through the noise, slicing straight into me. Another followed. And another. And one more. Then the world stilled. The pain receded but was distant, overshadowed by the sound filling the room. “Are they…?” My voice barely formed the question. “They’re breathing,” someone answered. “Tiny, but strong.” Clara appeared beside me, her face blurred by the tears she didn’t bother to hide. “You did it,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You did it, Bells.” My head turned toward her. “Can I see them?” “They’re taking them to the NICU,” she said softly, her hand brushing my hair back. “But they’re okay. They’re okay.” I nodded. They moved me to a different room, softer lights, quieter sounds. The chaos faded into something distant, muffled. Clara stayed. She sat beside the bed, her hand wrapped around mine, her thumb moving slowly over my skin like she needed the reassurance as much as I did. For a while, neither of us spoke. The storm

*Bella’s POV* The rain had stopped sometime before dawn, leaving the city wrapped in that damp, metallic scent that clung to everything—roads, railings, even the thin curtains by Clara’s windows. Morning light filtered through in a muted wash, soft enough that it didn’t feel like morning at all. Inside the apartment, the air carried a different weight. Warm milk. Baby powder. Fabric that had been washed too many times in too little sleep. I sat cross-legged on the couch, one leg already starting to go numb beneath me, but I didn’t shift. I had learned how to hold still in ways I never used to—how to let discomfort settle and pass because something smaller, more fragile, needed me exactly where I was. Two babies lay across my lap. One fed greedily, small mouth working against the bottle with soft, rhythmic sounds that filled the quiet. The other had already surrendered to sleep, her cheek pressed against my arm, her breath feather-light against my skin. Evie lay beside me on

* Bella’s POV* Morning arrived like it always did then—without permission. Light pressed through the thin curtains in pale stripes, settling across the floor, the table, the edge of the crib where one small fist lifted and fell in restless sleep. For a moment, I lay still, caught in that fragile space between dreaming and waking, where the world hadn’t yet remembered me. Then a sound broke through. A soft, searching whimper. Another followed, higher this time, more insistent. The kind that pulled something deep in my chest tight before my mind fully caught up. I pushed myself upright, a dull ache dragging across my back, my shoulders protesting the movement. The clock on the wall read 5:12 a.m., its red numbers steady, almost smug. “Alright,” I murmured, dragging a hand through my hair, fingers catching in knots I didn’t bother to smooth out. “Let’s not all start at once. One at a time, yeah?” The room answered me with betrayal. One cry folded into another, then another, un

*Bella’s POV* The night pressed in — one of those nights that clung to my skin, damp and restless, the air filled with the hum of the city and the soft breaths of sleeping children. The apartment stayed still, except for the slow clicking of the ceiling fan and the faint rhythm of four little heartbeats filling the silence. I sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched, my face half-hidden behind my hands. My hair fell around me in a tangled halo, strands sticking to my damp cheeks. I had been crying, though the tears had long dried — leaving only the sting. Across the room, the crib stood like a shrine. Four tiny bodies wrapped in mismatched blankets, sleeping in a peace I couldn’t reach. Clara’s door creaked open softly. “You’re still up?” I didn’t look up. “Couldn’t sleep.” My voice came out low, worn thin around the edges. She leaned against the doorway, wearing one of my oversized sweaters. “You’ve been up for three nights straight. You’ll make yourself sick.” A q