Mirabella
Morning came slow and soft, creeping into the clinic wing through the tall windows, painting the room in pale gold.
I stirred first, blinking blearily as the gentle light spilled across the bed where Alex and I lay tangled together, our sons nestled safely beside us.
For a moment, I just watched them—these tiny, miraculous creatures we had made. Two perfect boys, sleeping soundly, their faces so peaceful it nearly broke my heart.
Alex shifted beside me, his arm tightening protectively across my waist.
"Morning, Luna," he murmured, voice still thick with sleep.
"Morning," I whispered back, brushing my fingertips lightly against his jaw.
We stayed there for a few moments longer, soaking in the quiet, the stillness. As if neither of us dared to break the fragile, perfect peac
