47 | ☕A Sign of Twins to Come ☕ #3
When they reached the door, he stopped. She felt his fingers brush her wrist, gently guiding her toward the handle. The door creaked open softly, and Anya stood still, her anticipation mounting.
With a soft motion, Atlas pushed the door fully open, and she felt the rush of the air inside—the scent of fresh paint, sweet lavender, and something else, something tender.
The sound of a mobile swaying slowly reached her ears. Her breath caught in her throat as she stood in place, her senses tingling.
Atlas tapped her shoulder.
Anya opened her eyes, her pulse racing, and her gaze swept the room before her. The sight took her breath away.
The walls were painted in soft cream tones, dotted with pastel stars scattered across the ceiling like constellations.
It looked like a dream. Two cribs stood side by side, with soft blankets and natural wood, perfect in their simplicity.
Above them, a ceiling mobile in the shape of a crescent moon slowly swayed, surrounded by fluffy clouds that looked like they belonged in a fairy tale.
She stepped forward, her hand brushing over the plush rug, and she felt the softness beneath her fingertips.
The bookshelf in the corner was already half full, its spines lined up with picture books, the perfect start to a story.
A tiny rocking chair sat by the window, its cushion pale pink and inviting, ready for the quiet moments to come.
Her heart swelled as she felt tears threatening to spill over. "Atlas..."she whispered, her voice barely audible.
He moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her gently, pulling her close, the steady beat of his heart against her back. The warmth of him settled in, grounding her, and she felt a sense of peace she didn't realize she needed.
Anya pressed her palm to her chest, closing her eyes for a brief moment to steady herself. The room—this room—was everything she needed to believe in this journey, in their future. It was proof that it was real.
She turned to him, her arms wrapping around his waist as she pressed her face into his chest. The feeling of his steady heartbeat against her cheek was like a promise, one she didn't want to let go of.
"You're going to be the best dad," she whispered with a content smile.
Atlas smiled, his breath soft against her hair. He kissed the top of her head gently, holding her closer. His hands cupped her face, his thumb gently brushing over her cheek as he signed back. "And you," he signed, his expression full of tenderness and love, "are already the best mom."
That night, the two of them lay in bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting a gentle warmth across the room.
Anya's head rested against Atlas's chest, the rhythmic beat of his heart a steady comfort beneath her ear.
In her hand, her phone glowed softly, the baby names list open, a scroll of possibilities that seemed endless.
She sighed, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. "Okay," she said, tapping the screen. "What about Apollo?"
Atlas's hand brushed lightly over her hair, his fingers pausing as he considered. His eyebrows raised as he gave her a playful look, then signed quickly with a smile: "Too god-like. He'll never stop bragging about it."
Anya giggled at the thought. "Fair point. Okay, Luna?"
Atlas's fingers danced through the air, the fluidity of his signs elegant. He signed slowly, thoughtfully."Luna is beautiful. But what if she ends up being a gremlin? People will expect grace, and she'll be the one throwing cereal at the walls instead of gazing at the stars."
Anya laughed, her chest shaking with joy. They shared a quiet moment, both letting the absurdity of their thoughts soothe their nerves. But then, as if a quiet thought had settled within her, she paused, her fingers lingering on the screen as she scrolled, finding a name that felt just right.
"Zion," she whispered softly, her voice full of something soft and certain.
Atlas didn't immediately sign, but she could feel him processing the name, his fingers coming to rest on her arm in a reassuring touch. He signed gently, his expression serious yet warm."Zion. Strong. Solid. I like it too."
Anya's grin widened, her fingers tracing the screen as she thought of their little one, growing stronger by the day. She turned to him, the next name already on her lips.
"What about Colette?" she asked, looking up at him.
Atlas's gaze softened, his eyes holding a quiet admiration. He leaned in just enough to sign close to her, his fingers slow and deliberate. "Elegant. Clever. Perfect."
Anya smiled, her heart swelling as she thought of their daughter—Colette, who would grow with grace, wit, and all the love they had to give. She reached up and cupped his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, feeling the warmth of his touch and the weight of the moment.
"Zion and Colette," Anya said softly, her voice full of certainty, as if the names themselves were already woven into the fabric of their lives. "They sound like they're already ours."
Atlas's eyes twinkled as he signed with quiet confidence, his thumb gently tracing her palm. "Because they are."