You Stayed With Us

We're Finally Home

Lisa's POV

The ride home was quiet. Peaceful. Jennie sat in the backseat with Noah and Nathan secured snugly in their tiny car seats, her eyes never leaving them, as if blinking might make them disappear. I drove slower than usual—hands steady, music low, heart absolutely full.

Five days in the hospital. Five days of watching Jennie recover, watching over every breath Noah and Nathan took, counting every diaper, every tiny twitch, every feed, every yawn. Five days that felt like a blur and a lifetime all at once. And now we were finally going home. Home.

I parked the SUV in our driveway and killed the engine with a quiet exhale. Jennie smiled at me in the rearview mirror, soft and tired and glowing in a way only she could—our twins still sleeping peacefully beside her. I got out quickly and opened the back door, my arms automatically reaching for Nathan while Jennie carefully lifted Noah. We had this rhythm now. Like we'd been doing this forever.

I carried our son—our son—up the familiar steps and opened the front door.

That's when I froze.

"WELCOME HOME!!!"

A wave of blue balloons swirled around the entryway. A huge hand-painted banner stretched across the living room wall with glittery letters that read: Welcome Home, Noah & Nathan! And standing beneath it, like she'd been waiting all morning, was Irene... and Ella.

Ella, wearing a headband with little bear ears and holding a drawing of our family with Cooper next to the twins, ran toward us. "Dada! Mommy!" she squealed, eyes wide with joy as she tiptoed to peek at Nathan in my arms.

"Cooper, no jumping!" Irene warned, but our golden retriever was already sniffing and circling, his tail wagging furiously as if he knew he just became a big brother.

"I told you it'd make her cry," Irene whispered smugly, nudging Ella.

And okay—fine—I was crying. A little. Quietly. Just the eyes. "Shut up," I muttered, brushing my cheek with the back of my hand as I stepped fully into the house.

Ella hugged Jennie carefully, whispering, "Hi, Mommy," before she gently reached up to stroke Noah's foot. "They're so small..."

I heard Jennie softly laugh. "You were that small once."

Ella's eyes grew. "No way."

Irene stayed long enough to help us settle in, but soon she was saying her goodbyes with a warm hug for Jennie and a wink at me. "You two got this," she said. "Call me if they grow mustaches or start speaking full sentences overnight."

And just like that, it was quiet again.

Just us.

Jennie and I curled up on the couch—her with Noah resting on her chest, me with Nathan tucked against mine. Ella sat cross-legged on the rug, showing Cooper the baby socks like they were new toys, and Cooper laid his head gently on her lap, fully invested in big brother duty.

The house smelled like home. A mix of lavender baby wipes, a candle someone forgot to blow out, and the faintest trace of takeout from last night's chaos.

I leaned my head back against the couch and looked over at Jennie. She looked at me too, then down at the boys, then up again.

"We're really home," I whispered.

She smiled. "Yeah. Finally."

And we just sat there.

Soaking it in.

Ella. Cooper. Noah. Nathan. Jennie.

Us.

My whole world, right here.