(kealen)
Mira told me on a Tuesday morning with the same expression she used for everything — professional, measured, completely unfazed.
"Two," she said.
I looked at her.
"Heartbeats," she said. "Two distinct heartbeats." She set the instrument down. "You're carrying twins."
I sat on the edge of the examination table and looked at the wall.
"Okay," I said.
"You're about nine weeks," she said. "Which means the morning nausea you've been attributing to the residual stress of the governance summit last month—"
"Was not that," I said.
"Was not that," she confirmed.
I looked at the wall for another moment.
"Twins," I said.
"Two," Mira said. "Yes."
"Like. Two babies. At the same time."
"That is the standard configuration," she said.
I looked at her. "You're enjoying this."
"I'm
