47 | ☕A Sign of Twins to Come ☕ #2
They didn't need to overtalk it. That was the thing about them—they could swing from sarcasm to sincerity and back again without missing a beat.
Later, Kaia tried every glider chair in the store like she was auditioning for Broadway.
She sat dramatically, leaned back with exaggerated moans, made Anya rank each one on "nap potential" and "cry-while-holding-two-babies" comfort level.
They settled on a muted sage chair that swiveled like a dream.
As they left, Kaia handed Anya a bag she had sneakily paid for while she was in the bathroom.
Anya pulled out the lemon sunhat.
"You absolute menace," she whispered, tearing up.
Kaia shrugged. "I'm investing in your child's first fashion moment."
Anya laughed—loud and unfiltered—right there on the sidewalk. For the first time in months, she felt like herself again. Like the nausea and exhaustion hadn't swallowed her whole. Like she was more than just a vessel for tiny kicking feet.
She was Anya. She was going to be a mother. And she had Kaia—chaotic, loud, loyal Kaia—beside her through it all.
That was more than enough.
Two hours later, Anya was glowing.
Not the delicate, ethereal kind they show in movies—but the flushed, slightly sweaty, "my arms are sore from carrying bags of baby socks" kind. Still, her smile was wide, her eyes alight with the kind of joy that made strangers smile back at her.
She stood in front of the boutique, buried under six shopping bags brimming with impossibly tiny clothes, velvety-soft blankets, cloud-shaped pacifiers, and at least three baby hats that Kaia swore were "essential for the aesthetic."
"I don't know what happened," Anya said breathlessly, adjusting the bags on her arms. "Everything was just so... soft."
Kaia, arms folded and expression smug, sipped her iced matcha latte. "You're nesting, babe. You've officially entered the mom zone."
Anya gave her a look. "Is that an actual phase?"
"Oh yeah. Step one is denial. Step two is cradling a cloud-patterned swaddle in public while fighting tears. You're solidly on step four—acquisition frenzy."
Anya laughed, a rich sound that made Kaia grin proudly. It had been too long since that laugh sounded so free.
Just then, a sleek black car rolled to a smooth stop at the curb. The tinted window slid down.
Anya blinked. "Is that—?"
Before she could finish, the door opened and out stepped Atlas, dressed in a crisp black button-down and tailored slacks, his sleeves rolled just enough to reveal strong forearms.
He looked like he'd just walked off a magazine shoot—calm, polished, with the faintest amused smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Anya blinked again, caught somewhere between surprised and swooning. "You didn't have to come all the way here—"
He was already moving toward her, his pace unhurried but sure, eyes warm and steady. As he reached her, he lifted both hands and signed with ease, "Of course I did. You're carrying our children."
His fingers moved smoothly, confidently, ending the sentence with a soft gesture that brushed against his chest—ours—before he signed, "Let me carry everything else."
Anya's heart did a little somersault.
Kaia, standing behind him, mouthed a dramatic I want one while fanning herself with her latte lid.
Atlas, oblivious—or pretending to be—tucked the bags neatly into the car's trunk and turned back to Anya, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear with the kind of tenderness that made Kaia sigh again.
Back at the penthouse, the hum of city life outside seemed to fade as soon as Anya stepped through the front door. She was ready to collapse. The shopping spree had exhausted her, but the joy from it lingered in her veins like a soft glow.
Her arms were sore from carrying the heavy bags, but it was more than that. A heaviness in her chest, a deep, aching love, filled her every time she thought about the future. The tiny things—baby socks, pacifiers, soft swaddles—had somehow made it real in a way she hadn't expected.
She took a step toward the couch, but then a hand wrapped gently around hers, stopping her.
Anya raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a playful smile. "Is it food?"
He smiled softly, his hands shifting in a fluid motion to sign "Better," his fingers dancing through the air with practiced ease.
Anya couldn't help but smile fully. Whatever it was, she trusted him. His quiet confidence always made her feel part of something special. Closing her eyes in response, she allowed herself to fall into the anticipation, her heart picking up pace with each second.
He took her hand, his grip gentle but firm, guiding her down the back hallway with steady, careful steps.
The warmth of his touch was grounding, and any trace of exhaustion faded as she let the moment take over.
She could feel the soft tension in the air, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.
It was just the two of them, navigating the unknown together.