Bonus Chapter 1
Corine
One Year Later
I was staring at the test like it might explode.
Two pink lines. Bold. Unmistakable.
Pregnant.
My hand trembled as I set the stick down on the bathroom counter. The room spun. My breath caught in my chest like a weight, heavy and unrelenting. I sat down on the edge of the tub, hands clasped over my stomach as if I could will away the panic curling in my chest.
The last two pregnancies had shaken me to my core. I’d smiled through the joy, carried through the pain, but the nights alone, the bone-deep exhaustion, the fear that something could go wrong again—it never left me. And now… we had just settled. Just found peace.
Would Jasper still want this? Would he still want me?
I didn't know how long I sat there, until the door creaked open gently.
“Corinne?”
His voice always had a way of anchoring me.
I looked up, and he stepped into the bathroom, crouching down in front of me without needing any explanation. He saw it—the test sitting beside the sink. I saw the flicker of shock in his eyes. Then his brows furrowed, and he looked at me.
“You’re pregnant?”
I nodded, barely able to find my voice. “I… I didn’t plan it. I mean, we weren’t trying. And I know things are good now, and the last times weren’t easy, and I don’t know if I can do it again, I don’t know if—”
“Hey,” he whispered, pulling me into his arms before the flood could crash over me. “Corinne. Breathe.”
And I did. Only because he reminded me how.
“You’re scared,” he said softly, brushing his lips over my hair. “I get it. God, I get it. But I need you to hear me—I'm not going anywhere.”
“You say that now,” I whispered, choking back a sob. “But what if it’s like before? What if I fall apart again? What if you can't handle that?”
His hands cupped my face, his thumbs wiping at the tears that streamed freely now.
“I watched you give everything for our family,” he said, his voice cracking. “I saw you fight through fear and pain and still show up every day for Kyle and Astrid. You think that made me want to leave? No, baby, that made me fall harder.”
My lip quivered. “You mean that?”
He nodded, and his voice broke as he said, “We’re having a baby.”
Then, to my absolute surprise, he cried—not out of fear or doubt, but because he wanted this. Because the life growing inside me wasn’t something to fear, but something to love.
“I’ve never loved you more,” he whispered against my lips. “We’ve got this, Corinne. We’re going to be okay. You’re not alone anymore.”
---
Later That Evening
The four of us sat on the living room rug, surrounded by drawings, dolls, and tiny shoes that never seemed to find their pairs.
“Kyle,” Jasper started, ruffling his hair, “can you put the Legos down for a sec, buddy? We have something important to tell you guys.”
Kyle raised an eyebrow like a little detective, already suspicious. Astrid was spinning in circles on the rug, her curls bouncing.
I took a deep breath, my fingers laced with Jasper’s.
“We’re going to have a baby,” I said softly.
There was a beat of silence.
Then Astrid shrieked. “A BABY?!”
Kyle blinked. “Wait—like a real baby? Not a pretend one like Astrid’s doll?”
“Yes, a real one,” Jasper said, laughing.
Astrid launched into my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. “I always wanted a baby! Can I name it?”
“No,” Kyle said matter-of-factly, standing with his hands on his hips. “We should name him Flash.”
Jasper burst out laughing. “Why Flash?”
“Because he’ll be fast. Like a superhero.”
“Or,” I offered, “we could name him something we all like.”
Astrid looked up with wide eyes. “Is it a boy?”
I nodded, wiping tears from my cheeks. “Yes, it’s a boy.”
Kyle’s chest puffed up like he’d just been promoted. “I’m gonna teach him everything I know. Like how to build a rocket ship out of cereal boxes.”
Astrid grinned. “I’m gonna teach him how to dance. And sing.”
“You both will be amazing big siblings,” I said softly, my heart full.
Jasper pulled all of us into a hug, arms wrapping around our little chaos of a family. “He’s the luckiest kid in the world. Just like I am.”
---
Nine Months Later
It was raining the day he was born.
The hospital room was quiet except for the soft hum of monitors and the soothing whispers of nurses. I clung to Jasper’s hand, sweat beading on my forehead, my breath uneven.
“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, pressing kisses along my temple. “Almost there, love. You’ve got this.”
And then—he arrived.
A cry broke through the air, strong and defiant. They laid him on my chest, all wrinkled skin and tiny fists and the softest cry I’d ever heard.
“Nathan,” I whispered. “Nathan Aiden.”
Jasper’s hand trembled as he touched his son for the first time. “Hi, little man.”
Tears rolled freely down his cheeks. “You’re here. You’re really here.”
Nathan’s tiny fingers curled around one of mine, and I felt something shift—peace settling deep in my bones. This birth, this moment, felt different. Not because it was easier, but because I wasn’t alone.
Jasper looked at me like I’d just done the impossible. “You’re incredible. You’re… everything.”
I reached up, brushing away his tears. “So are you.”
---
Two Days Later – Home
Kyle and Astrid stood on tiptoes, peering into the bassinet.
“He’s so small,” Kyle whispered.
“Can I hold him now?” Astrid begged.
“Sit first,” Jasper instructed gently, lifting Nathan into her waiting arms. “Support his head. Like that.”
Astrid stared at her new brother in awe. “He smells like baby powder and magic.”
Jasper laughed. “That’s pretty accurate.”
Kyle leaned against me, watching. “I think he likes us already.”
“He does,” I said, wrapping my arms around my eldest. “He’s been waiting for you both.”
Later, when everyone was asleep, Jasper and I sat in bed, Nathan curled between us. His soft breathing filled the room.
“I keep staring at him,” Jasper whispered, “trying to figure out how something so tiny can hold this much of my heart.”
I looked at him, eyes full. “Thank you for not running when I was scared.”
He turned to me, hand warm against my cheek. “Thank you for staying when I didn’t know how to love properly.”
“I love you,” I whispered.
“I love all of this,” he said, eyes shining. “You. Our kids. The mess. The noise. The quiet.”
He kissed me deeply, then looked down at Nathan, who yawned in his sleep.
“Our boy,” he whispered.
“Our miracle.”
—