Chapter Twenty-Eight
Julien
Monday morning meetings were sacred.
Not in the spiritual, cosmic, universe-was-speaking-to-me way that Athena would describe them. But in the practical, organizational, this-was-how-we-maintained-efficiency way that kept the clinic running smoothly.
Every Monday at eight AM, we gathered in the conference room to review the week’s patient load, discuss complex cases, and coordinate schedules.
It was structured. Predictable. Controlled.
Everything I needed in my life right now, given that I was approximately forty-eight hours away from becoming a father to three infants simultaneously.
Two days.
Just two more days until Athena’s scheduled C-section.
Two days to finalize the nursery setup, confirm the hospital bag contents for the seventeenth time, and review my labor and delivery contingency plans.
I can do this.
Everything is under control.
“Julien,” Gabriel said, pulling up the patient schedule on the large monitor. “You’re seeing the Hendersons at ten, correct?”
“Correct. Follow-up for Mr. Henderson’s post-operative recovery. All scans show excellent healing, no complications.”
“And you’ve cleared your schedule for Wednesday?” Nathan asked.
“Completely cleared. No patients, no surgeries, no consultations. I’ll be at the hospital with Athena for the C-section at seven AM.”
“You have a backup plan if something goes wrong?” Fitz asked, not looking up from his tablet.
“I have seventeen backup plans.”
“Of course you do.”
“Each color-coded by severity level and likelihood of occurrence.”
“Naturally.”
Quinton was grinning. “Did you make a spreadsheet for the birth?”
“I made several spreadsheets for the birth.”
“How many is several?”
“Six. One for the hospital arrival timeline, one for the surgical procedure itself, one for immediate post-operative care, one for the first twenty-four hours, one for potential complications, and one for—”
“We get it,” Hayden interrupted, though he was smiling. “You’ve planned everything.”
“Planning is essential when you’re about to become responsible for three human lives.”
“You’re already responsible for human lives,” Sarah pointed out. “You’re a neurosurgeon.”
“That’s different. Those patients are adults. With fully developed nervous systems. And they don’t require diaper changes.”
“Fair point.”
I pulled out my own tablet, opening my master timeline. “Now, if we could review Wednesday’s coverage arrangements—”
The conference room door burst open.
Winnie stood in the doorway, her face flushed, her phone clutched in her hand.
“Julien,” she said, slightly breathless. “Athena’s in labor.”
The room fell silent.
Completely, utterly silent.
I stared at Winnie.
“What?”
“Athena. Labor. Now. Ambulance is bringing her to the hospital.”
No. That’s not possible.
The C-section is scheduled for Wednesday.
It’s Monday.
She’s not supposed to go into labor until Wednesday.
“That’s not—” I started. “She can’t—the schedule—”
“The babies didn’t check your schedule,” Winnie said.
My left eye started twitching.
“But.” I looked at my tablet, as if the carefully color-coded timeline would somehow make this make sense. “Wednesday. Seven AM. Dr. Morrison. Operating room three. I have it all planned.”
“Julien,” Nathan said carefully. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“I can’t go to the hospital. I have the Hendersons at ten.”
“I’ll take the Hendersons,” Gabriel said immediately.
“And the Chens at eleven.”
“I’ve got them,” Sarah said.
“And the afternoon consultations.”
“Covered,” Quinton said. “All of it. Go.”
I stood up.
Sat back down.
Stood up again.
This isn’t happening.
This can’t be happening.
I have a PLAN!
“Julien,” Hayden said, his voice gentle. “Breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“I’m not.” I stopped. He was right. I was breathing too fast. “The hospital bag. Did she have the hospital bag? I packed it last night. Three changes of clothes for her, receiving blankets for the babies, my change of clothes, snacks, phone chargers.”
“I’m sure she has it,” Winnie said.
“But what if she doesn’t? What if she forgot it? What if—”
“Then you’ll manage without it,” Nathan said firmly. “Julien. Look at me.”
I looked at him.
“Your wife is in labor. Your children are coming. You need to go to the hospital. Right now.”
Right. Hospital. Athena. The babies.
I grabbed my tablet, my phone, and my keys.
“Julien,” Fitz said.
I turned.
He was holding up his phone.
Recording.
“What are you doing?”
“Documenting this moment for posterity.”
“Put the phone down.”
“Absolutely not. This is gold.”
“FITZ.”
“Your eye is twitching so hard I’m concerned it might achieve escape velocity.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“After the babies are born, please. I want to meet them first.”
I started toward the door. Stopped and then turned back. “The Hendersons. Gabriel, make sure you review the post-operative scans; there was a slight irregularity in the—”
“I’ve got it,” Gabriel assured me.
“And the Chens. Sarah, Mrs. Chen gets anxious about test results, so make sure you—”
“I know,” Sarah said. “Go.”
“And if anyone needs to reach me—”
“We won’t,” Quinton said. “Unless the hospital is literally on fire. And even then, we’ll probably handle it ourselves.”
“But—”
“JULIEN,” all seven of them said in unison. “GO!”
I went.
The drive to the hospital was a blur.
Not because I was driving recklessly. I was a surgeon; I understood the importance of arriving alive. No, it was because my brain was simultaneously trying to process seventeen different thoughts at once.
She’s in labor.
Two days early.
The schedule is ruined. Everything is ruined. No, not ruined. Just... adjusted. Unexpectedly adjusted. Very unexpectedly adjusted.
What if something goes wrong? What if the babies are in distress?
What if—my phone rang.
Fitz.
I answered on speaker. “What?”
“Just checking that you’re still breathing.”
“I’m breathing.”
“Are you sure? Because you sounded pretty close to a full panic attack back there.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your eye was twitching.”
“I’m aware.”
“Both eyes, actually. It was quite impressive. Very symmetrical.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“To remind you that Athena is fine, the babies are fine, and you’re going to be fine.”
Something in my chest loosened slightly. “How do you know they’re fine?”
“Because Winnie called the hospital. Athena arrived ten minutes ago. She’s stable, the babies are stable, and Dr. Morrison is already there.”
Stable. They’re stable.
Okay. Okay.
“Thank you,” I said.
“You’re welcome. Now drive safely, don’t have a panic attack, and for God’s sake, try to smile when you see your wife. She’s about to give birth to three humans. The least you can do is not look like you’re about to pass out.”
“I’m not going to pass out.”
“You passed out last time.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I was... surprised.”
“And you’re not surprised now?”
“I’m terrified now. That’s different from surprised.”
He laughed. “Fair enough. Good luck, Julien. You’re going to be a great father.”
He hung up before I could respond.
I pulled into the hospital parking lot, found a space, and sat there for exactly thirty seconds, trying to calm my racing heart.
You can do this. You’re a neurosurgeon. You’ve performed hundreds of complex surgeries.
You’ve saved lives. You can handle this.
You can—my phone buzzed.
A text from Nathan: Stop sitting in your car and go see your wife.
How did he—another text: Fitz is streaming this live on YouTube.
WHAT?!
I looked around the parking lot.
Spotted Fitz’s car three rows over.
He waved.
I was going to kill him.
But first, I needed to see Athena.
The maternity ward was on the fourth floor.
I’d been here dozens of times for consultations, but I’d never been here as a patient’s husband.
As a father.
Father. I’m about to be a father.
To three children.
Simultaneously.
My eye twitched harder.
“Dr. Darcy!” One of the nurses, Jennifer, whom I had worked with before, smiled when she saw me. “Congratulations! Your wife was just brought in.”
“Is she—how is—are the babies—”
“Everyone’s doing great. Dr. Morrison is with her now. Room 412.”
I walked down the hallway, my legs feeling increasingly unstable.
I stopped outside the door and took a breath.
You can do this.
I opened the door and saw Athena. She was sitting up in the hospital bed, one hand on her enormous stomach, the other holding what appeared to be a smoothie.
She was smiling.
Not grimacing in pain. Not crying. Not looking terrified.
Smiling.
“Julien!” she said brightly. “You made it!”
Something in my chest, the tight, panicked thing that had been squeezing my lungs since Winnie had burst into the conference room, suddenly released as I walked over to the bed and sat down in the chair beside her.
I took her free hand. “Hi,” I said.
“Hi.” She squeezed my hand. “Sorry about the schedule.”
“The schedule doesn’t matter.”
“Really? Because you made six spreadsheets.”
“Seven. I made a seventh one last night.”
She laughed. “Of course you did.”
Dr. Morrison appeared from the corner of the room, where he’d been reviewing monitors. “Dr. Darcy. Good timing. We’re going to take her for a C-section in about twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“The babies are doing well, but Baby A is showing some signs of distress. Nothing critical, but I’d rather not wait.”
Baby A in distress?
My medical training kicked in automatically. “What kind of distress? Heart rate variability? Decreased movement? Cord compression?”
“Mild heart rate deceleration during contractions. Nothing alarming, but given that we’re dealing with triplets, I would rather be proactive.”
Proactive. Yes. That makes sense.
That’s logical.
“Julien,” Athena said softly.
I looked at her.
“Breathe,” she said.
“I am breathing.”
“You’re spiraling.”
“I’m not—” I stopped. “Maybe a little.”
“The babies are fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“But the schedule.”
“The universe had other plans.”
The universe.
Of course. The universe that has been laughing at me since the moment I met this woman.
The universe that has taken my carefully ordered life and turned it into beautiful, chaotic, perfect chaos.
The universe that is now delivering my children two days early, just to prove a point.
I looked at Athena. At her calm smile, her steady breathing, her complete lack of panic, and felt something shift inside me.
She’s not afraid. She’s never been afraid. Because she trusts the universe. She trusts that everything will work out the way it’s supposed to. Even when it doesn’t match the plan.
Especially when it doesn’t match the plan.
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?”
“Okay. The universe wins.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The universe. It wins. I’ve been fighting it since the moment we met, trying to control everything, plan everything, schedule everything. But it doesn’t matter. The universe is going to do what it wants anyway.”
“Julien.”
“And I’m okay with that.”
She stared at me. “You’re okay with that?”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Really?”
“Really.” I squeezed her hand. “Because you’re here. And the babies are coming. And nothing else matters.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Julien Darcy, did you just have a spiritual awakening?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I’m just... accepting reality.”
“That’s what a spiritual awakening is.”
“That’s what logic is.”
She laughed, and I felt that familiar warmth in my chest.
This. This is what matters.
Not the schedules or the spreadsheets or the plans.
This.
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too.” She paused. “Even though you made seven spreadsheets.”
“Especially because I made seven spreadsheets.”
“That’s very on-brand for you.”
“I’m nothing if not consistent.”
Dr. Morrison cleared his throat. “This is very sweet, but we need to prep you for surgery, Athena.”
“Right. Surgery. To remove three humans from my body.” Athena looked at me. “You ready?”
Am I ready?
No.
Absolutely not.
I will never be ready for this.
But I’m going to do it anyway.
“I’m ready,” I said.