Laura
The twins were finally asleep. I stood by their cribs, watching their tiny chests rise and fall in unison. Their soft snores mixed with the quiet hum of the heater, a rhythm that somehow always soothed me. Tonight, I’d sung an old Kentucky lullaby my dad used to sing to me when I was little, the same one he’d hum while stroking my hair whenever I had a bad dream.
“Hush, little baby, don’t you cry, Mama’s gonna sing you a lullaby…”
The words lingered in my mind, a melody of nostalgia and comfort. The formula bottles lay empty beside the cribs, and I tidied them absentmindedly. As I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror across the room, I sighed. The day had been… a lot.
The morning had started like any other. I’d rushed through my routine—feeding the twins, a quick breakfast w
