Crush from birth

"Push, Valentina! Push!" "If you tell me to push one more time, Antonio, I am going to throw this heart monitor at your head!" Valentina gasped, her face bright red, her knuckles white as she squeezed her husband’s hand with a grip that could crush walnuts. Just three feet away, separated only by a flimsy blue privacy curtain that had been shoved entirely out of the way, Mint Rossi let out a dramatic wail. "Fabio! The ice chip! You’re not feeding me the ice chip fast enough!" "I am trying, mio amore! The spoon is slippery!" Fabio panicked, dropping the plastic cup entirely. Ice scattered across the linoleum floor. The maternity ward at St. Jude’s Hospital was in absolute chaos. It was a Tuesday afternoon, and by some ridiculous twist of fate—or destiny, as the families would claim for the next eighteen years—the neighborhood best friends had gone into labor within ten minutes of each other. Since the hospital was packed, they ended up side-by-side in Room 302. "Doctor! They are synchronizing!" the head nurse shouted, looking between the two monitors. "The contractions are perfectly aligned!" Antonio looked across the gap between the beds, extending his free left hand. Fabio reached out from his side, and Valentina and Mint gripped each other's hands in the middle. The four of them formed a shaking, sweating, hyperventilating human chain. "We do everything together, Val," Mint panted, trying to smile through a massive contraction. "Even this!" "Next time... we are getting different hobbies," Valentina wheezed back. "Alright, ladies, I see a head on bed two!" the doctor yelled, sliding on his stool toward Mint. "Mint, big push now! Three, two, one..." "Ahhhhhh!" "You can do it, Minty!" Antonio cheered, completely invested. "Antonio, focus on my baby!" Valentina shrieked, giving another massive heave. With one final, triumphant push from Mint, a loud, healthy wail echoed through the room. "It's a boy!" the doctor announced, holding up a slippery, screaming, beautifully dramatic baby. "Time of birth: 4:14 PM." "Dante," Mint breathed, bursting into tears of exhaustion and joy as the nurse quickly wiped the baby down and placed him on her chest. "Look at him, Fabio. He’s perfect." "He has my nose," Fabio wept openly, wiping his face with a paper towel. "My beautiful, perfect boy." But the peace lasted for all of three seconds. "Wait, wait! Doctor, don't get comfortable!" Valentina yelled, her eyes widening. "She’s coming! Right now!" The doctor scrambled back on his stool, sliding across the floor like a shortstop stealing second base. "Alright, Valentina, give me everything you’ve got! Push!" "Come on, Val!" Mint called out from her bed, holding tiny, crying Baby Dante close. "Bring her out!" Oddly enough, it felt like the baby girl inside Valentina had just been waiting for her cue. One major push, a collective gasp from the room, and she practically popped out into the world. "And a girl!" the doctor beamed, catching her expertly. "Time of birth: 4:18 PM. Four minutes apart!" The room braced itself for the second round of newborn wailing. The nurse opened her mouth to check the baby’s airway. Antonio held his breath, waiting for his daughter's first cry. Instead, Baby Aurora let out a tiny, high-pitched, bubbly sound. “Gah!” She didn't cry. She blinked against the bright hospital lights, her tiny arms flailing, and let out a genuine, gummy, baby giggle. "Uh, Doctor?" Antonio blinked, leaning closer. "Is she... laughing?" "In twenty years of delivering babies, I have never seen this," the doctor muttered, staring at the infant in awe. "She’s completely happy." The nurse quickly wrapped Aurora in a pink blanket and handed her over to Valentina. "Here is your little comedian, Mom." "Oh, my sweet Aurora," Valentina whispered, kissing her forehead. "You're a weird little thing, aren't you? Why aren't you crying?" As if answering the question, Baby Aurora turned her head. Her wide, dark eyes scanned the room, completely ignoring her mother, ignoring her weeping father, and locked straight onto the opposite bed. Right onto Baby Dante. The moment Aurora’s eyes found him, her little legs kicked excitedly under the blanket. Dante, sensing a presence, stopped crying for a split second, let out a tiny newborn sneeze, and turned his head toward her. "Valentina... look," Mint whispered, leaning over the edge of her mattress. The two mothers watched in absolute amazement. Baby Aurora was staring at Dante, even tho newborns can’t see with unblinking, utterly fascinated adoration. She looked like she had just found her favorite toy in the universe and had absolutely no intention of ever sharing it. "She’s not looking at us at all," Antonio said, a mix of amusement and faux-offense in his voice. "Hey, Rory, look over here! It’s me, Dad! The guy who is going to pay for your college!" Aurora didn't even blink. Her gaze remained firmly glued to the boy four minutes her senior. Fabio let out a booming laugh, clapping Antonio on the back. "My friend, I think your daughter has made up her mind!" "Oh, stop it, Fabio, they're four minutes old," Valentina laughed, though she leaned over and nudged Mint's shoulder. "But seriously, Mint... if we have to share a room, I think our kids are going to have to share a life." Mint beamed, looking down at Dante, who had fallen asleep, and then at Aurora, who was still staring at him like he hung the stars. "I think they already are."