You Stayed With Us

More Than Enough

Ella's POV

The house wasn't quiet—our house was never quiet—but there was something about the noise upstairs that made the living room feel... peaceful. From the couch, I could hear Dada trying to stop Noah and Nathan from wrestling Scarlett into some kind of "superhero cape" made out of a blanket. Scarlett's high-pitched giggles floated down like little fireworks, while Dada's voice rose in mock-seriousness.

"Boys—hey! No! That's not a cape, that's Mommy's sweater!"

More laughter. More footsteps.

And somehow, it made me smile.

I sat there for a while, curled up in the corner of the couch, just watching my Mom work at the dining table. Her laptop was open, fingers tapping fast as she answered emails, her hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder. Every now and then she'd pause, rub her forehead, and sigh. But then she'd glance toward the staircase where the noise carried down, and this small smile would flicker on her lips.

I don't think she even noticed it. But I did.

I thought about how, not too long ago, I used to wonder what it would be like to have all this—siblings running around, parents laughing in the kitchen, dinners where we squeezed into our seats and talked all at once. And now... now it felt like I'd always had it. Like home had been waiting for me all along.

I didn't realize tears had started to sting my eyes until Mom suddenly looked over and noticed me.

"Ella?" Her voice softened immediately, concerned. She closed her laptop halfway and pushed her chair back. "Baby, what's wrong?"

I shook my head quickly, wiping at my face. "Nothing. I'm okay."

She didn't believe me, of course. Mom never did when it came to me. She crossed the room, sat down next to me on the couch, and pulled me into her arms. The kind of hug that felt like it could glue back all the cracks inside you without even trying.

"Talk to me," she whispered against my hair. "Please?"

For a moment I just stayed quiet, listening to the chaos upstairs. Then I whispered, "I was just... thinking."

"About what?"

I took a deep breath, then let it out in a rush. "About how lucky I am. To have you. And Dada. And them." My voice cracked, and I tried to laugh it off, but it came out shaky. "I don't say it enough, but... I really love you guys."

Mom froze for a moment, like she wasn't expecting that. Then her arms tightened around me, and when I pulled back to look at her, her eyes were already glassy.

"Oh, Ella..." She cupped my face, her thumb brushing away the tear that slipped down my cheek. "We're the lucky ones. Do you know that? Having you... it's the greatest gift we've ever been given. You made us a family before anyone else did."

Her voice broke, and suddenly she was crying too, her forehead pressing against mine.

I let the tears come, not even trying to hide them. "I just... I don't ever want to let you down."

"You could never let me down," she said firmly, pulling back so I could see the truth in her eyes. "Growing up, making mistakes, figuring out who you are—that's not letting us down, baby. That's living. And your Dada and I? We'll be right here. Always."

I bit my lip, my throat tight. "Sometimes it feels like... a lot. Being the oldest. Like I have to be responsible all the time. Like they're looking at me to be perfect."

Mommy shook her head quickly, wiping her own tears now. "No, no. You don't have to be perfect, Ella. You just have to be you. You're allowed to be silly, to mess up, to ask for help. That doesn't make you less responsible—it makes you human.
And if it ever feels heavy, share it with us. We'll carry it together."

That's when I really broke, burying my face in her shoulder as she held me, rocking me slightly like she used to when I was little.

"I'm so thankful for you, Mommy," I whispered against her. "For everything. For not giving up on me. For being here."

Her hand stroked my hair, her voice trembling. "Always. Always, Ella."

The sound of more footsteps pounding down the stairs broke us apart a little. Scarlett's voice rang out, squealing something about "superhero babies," and then Nathan's laugh joined in.

Mom smiled through her tears, brushing her thumb over my cheek one last time. "See? They're fine. Dada has it under control."

From the hallway came Dada's very loud, very not under-control voice:

"Jennie! The twins are trying to put Scarlett in a laundry basket!"

Mommy and I burst into laughter, still teary-eyed, still holding onto each other. And in that messy, imperfect, chaotic moment—I felt it again. That overwhelming, unshakable truth.

I was loved. More than enough.

And I wasn't alone.