You Stayed With Us

A Different Kind of Scared

Irene took a photo of the three of us, all wrapped up in a hug, Cooper barking behind us as if demanding to be included.

We moved to the living room after dinner—me, Jennie, Irene, and Ella sprawled out on the floor, surrounded by diapers and snacks and tiny hats no bigger than my palm.

I handed Irene a water bottle and gave her a teasing look. "So... Seulgi, huh?"

"What?" Irene choked a little too fast.

Jennie raised a knowing brow from where she was reclined on the couch, hand on her belly like a queen surveying the drama.

"You two seem... cozy," I said, grinning.

Irene rolled her eyes. "We met up for coffee."

"That's what they all say," Jennie hummed, clearly enjoying the rare moment where someone else's love life was being poked at.

"She made you coffee and a playlist," I added.

"I didn't say anything about a playlist!" Irene gasped.

"You didn't have to," I smirked. "It was in your eyes."

Jennie leaned closer, eyes twinkling. "So, do you like her?"

Irene looked away, dramatically sipping her water like it was wine. "I don't know," she muttered. "Maybe. Yes. She's... different."

"She's a good kind of different," Jennie smiled.

We all cracked up. Cooper barked again, clearly loving the chaos.

After things calmed, and Ella dozed off with her head on Jennie's lap, I looked at the two most important girls in my world and felt my heart ache with how lucky I was.

"Two more days," I whispered to Jennie.

Her eyes met mine, soft and glowing. "You ready?"

"No," I chuckled. "But I've got everything I need."

She smiled, resting her hand on her belly again, and whispered, "Me too."

And from the couch where she pretended not to be crying, Irene sniffed and muttered, "God, you guys are so gross."

We just laughed.

Because in two days, our lives were going to change forever.

And we couldn't wait.

_________________

Jennie's POV

The house was quieter than usual. Not the usual cozy nighttime quiet with soft cartoons humming in the background or Cooper's paws padding against the floor. It was the kind of quiet where everything stood still—like even time wanted to pause, just to breathe with me for a moment.

Lisa was downstairs finishing up some last-minute laundry, and Ella had fallen asleep earlier than expected—her drawing tucked safely in Lisa's bag, the one we're bringing to the hospital. A little family portrait she made: Lisa, me, Ella, the twins drawn as two tiny blobs, and of course, Cooper right in the middle, licking us all.

But instead of heading to bed, I found myself in the nursery.

I stood by the doorway first, my hand brushing the doorframe as I looked around the room we'd carefully prepared. Soft cream walls, little cloud decals Lisa insisted on, the twin cribs side by side, and the rocking chair by the window that caught just the right amount of moonlight.

I slowly walked toward it, one hand supporting my belly, the other trailing over the crib's edge.

"Hi, boys," I whispered, my voice breaking the silence. "It's Mommy."

I lowered myself into the rocking chair, the soft cushions welcoming me as I sighed and leaned back. The moonlight made the room feel like a dream, like something sacred, and I rested both hands on my belly.

"You've been kicking a lot tonight," I said with a small laugh. "Like you know something's coming."

They kicked again. I smiled, tears immediately rushing to my eyes.

"I'm scared," I confessed. "But not like before. Not like the scared that made me run away when Ella was born."

I paused, letting the memories drift in—how I used to sit alone, crying into pillows, afraid of messing up again, afraid I'd never feel worthy of being her mom.

"But this time... I'm scared in a different way," I whispered, my voice starting to tremble. "I'm scared because I love you so much already. Because I know how big this is. I know what it means now to be a mom. I know the weight of it. The beauty of it."

I swallowed hard and looked toward the moonlight catching on the edge of the mobile above the crib. It gently spun, casting little shadows of stars on the wall.

"You boys... you're joining a family that's full of love. A family that wasn't perfect, but one that fought hard to get to where we are. Your Dada—Lisa—is everything. She's my best friend, my safe place. And your sister, Ella... she's kind, thoughtful, funny, and she's been waiting for you."

I rubbed slow circles on my stomach.

"And I know I missed a lot with her. I'll always carry that. But I'm here now. I'm staying this time. For her. For you. For Lisa. For us."

A few more kicks answered back, one strong enough to make me laugh through my tears. "Okay, okay... I get it. You hear me."

I closed my eyes for a second, imagining what it would feel like to finally hold them. Their warmth, their tiny fingers. Would they look like Lisa? Like me? Would they cry in sync? Would they love Taylor Swift because Ella's already preparing her Spotify playlist for you two?"

I giggled softly to myself.

Lisa's footsteps creaked lightly down the hall, and when the door gently opened, she didn't say anything. She just came in, saw me, and knelt beside the rocking chair.

"Hey," she whispered, reaching for my hand. "Couldn't sleep?"

I shook my head slowly. "Just needed to sit with them."

Lisa placed her hand over mine and pressed her cheek against my belly. The twins gave her a greeting kick.

"Wow, already ganging up on me," she chuckled. "Boys, be nice to Dada. I've been folding your socks all day."

I laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of her head.

Then I whispered, "I told them I was scared."

Lisa looked up at me, eyes soft. "I am too."

"But it's different now," I added. "It's not the kind of scared that makes me want to run. It's the kind that makes me want to do it all right."

"You already are," she said, brushing a tear from my cheek. "You've been showing up. Every day. Loving Ella. Carrying these boys. Letting me in again."

"I want them to feel safe," I said. "I want them to know I'll always be here. No matter what."

Lisa cupped my cheek and kissed me gently. "They already do."

I didn't know how long we stayed like that. Lisa's head on my lap, my fingers combing through her hair, the slow rocking of the chair, the quiet night wrapping around us like a lullaby.

Eventually, I looked around the room one last time before whispering to the twins again, "We're ready for you. Whenever you are."

And in my heart—I meant it.

For the first time in a long time, I wasn't running.

I was waiting.