“Babe, are you ready?” Michael asked for the fifth time in ten minutes, pacing around the living room like a nervous intern waiting for exam results.
Marnie sat on the couch, eating the last few bites of her pandesal with cheese. “For the love of everything holy, YES, Michael. I’ve been ready. YOU’RE the one who keeps asking like we’re about to board a rocket.”
He grabbed the hospital bag.
She blinked. “Why are you bringing that?”
“In case something happens,” he said, completely serious. “You’re thirty weeks, the twins are kicking like they’re trying to escape—what if today is the day?!”
“Michael,” she sighed. “It’s a ROUTINE check-up.”
“Routine check-ups can turn into emergencies.”
“Stop watching medical dramas.”
“I can’t. They’re educational.”
She rolled her eyes as she stood—an
