You Stayed With Us

All This Time, I Get to Stay

Jennie's POV

The house was quiet again. Not the kind of silence that came with absence—but the kind wrapped in warmth. The kind that hummed softly in the background between soft baby coos and the gentle scuffle of Cooper's paws against the polished floorboards.

Lisa had just left. I stood by the front window with one hand on the curtain, watching as the SUV disappeared down the street, Ella's silhouette waving wildly from the backseat. My lips curved into a smile. Lisa would take her to school, stop by the grocery store, probably come home with way too many snack options again, and still pretend it was all part of the plan.

I turned away and padded barefoot across the hallway, the soft fabric of my robe brushing my legs. I passed by the living room where a few toys were scattered from last night and made my way into the nursery. The moment I opened the door, Cooper trotted in beside me like a shadow. His nose immediately went to the twin's crib, giving both of them a soft sniff before circling once and plopping down on the rug like a proud big brother.

Noah was still asleep, his tiny fists raised beside his head as if he was winning some silent baby boxing match. Nathan was starting to stir, eyes fluttering beneath long lashes, mouth twitching like he was having a very important dream. I reached down and gently adjusted the little blanket over his chest, careful not to wake him just yet.

I sat on the rocking chair tucked in the corner, the morning sun casting a soft glow through the pastel curtains. Cooper let out a sigh and rested his head on my foot, and for a while... I just breathed.

One month.

It's only been a month. And yet, it feels like a lifetime ago that I was just standing in this room—terrified and unsure, not knowing how I could ever fix what I broke. Not knowing if Lisa would ever let me in again. If Ella would even want me around. If these little boys would ever get to meet the version of me that wasn't running away.

But now?

Now Nathan's hand reached out blindly from his blanket and curled around my finger. So small. So impossibly strong.

And I didn't want to move. Not ever.

"You're strong, huh?" I whispered, brushing my thumb gently over his fist. "Just like your sister."

Noah shifted in his sleep with a soft grunt, his nose scrunching. I chuckled under my breath.

"And loud. Like your Dada," I added with a fond smile.

These quiet moments—they hit me the hardest. Not because I was sad. But because it didn't feel real sometimes. Like I had stumbled into someone else's dream and was just waiting to be shaken awake.

But I wasn't dreaming. I was here. I was staying. And I was being allowed—finally—to be their mom.

"I'm not going anywhere," I whispered to them both. "Not ever again."

Nathan's little fist squeezed tighter around my finger.

I laughed through a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. "You two are going to grow up so loved. You have no idea."

The chair creaked softly beneath me as I rocked, watching their little chests rise and fall. The scent of baby lotion, warm cotton.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here before," I murmured, voice quieter now. "For your sister. For your Dada. I should've been. But I'm here now. I promise."

Nathan let out a small grunt and his face scrunched—his pre-cry warning. I lifted him from the crib carefully and nestled him against me. His body was warm and soft and curled into me like he belonged there.

Because he did.

Because I did.

I adjusted my robe and guided him to latch—his mouth finding me instinctively. That bond again. That grounding tether I didn't even know I needed, until I had it. Until I felt his heartbeat against mine.

Noah stirred in the other crib, blinking up at the ceiling, kicking one leg out from his blanket. Cooper immediately perked up beside me like he was ready to help, and I had to stifle a giggle.

"Okay, okay, little guy. You're next," I whispered, bouncing Nathan gently.

Noah looked over at the sound of my voice—like he already knew me.

And for the millionth time this month, I cried. Not ugly tears. Not grief. Just the kind of tears you cry when you're so overwhelmed by love, your heart feels like it can't take it.

"I love you both so much," I said, swiping the corner of my eye. "And I'm going to show up for you. Every single day. Even on the bad ones. Even when I'm tired. Even if I get scared."

I smiled down at Nathan.

"Mommy's not leaving this time."

He nuzzled in closer.

Cooper gave a low, approving woof.

And somewhere outside, a car door shut—Lisa was home.

But in this moment, with one twin feeding at my chest, the other blinking at me like he already understood, and Cooper keeping watch—I didn't need anything else.

This was everything.

This was us.

This was finally home.