The weeks rolled forward, and suddenly the house was filled with a different kind of energy. Not just laughter or teasing—but the weight of two new lives growing inside Anna and Arin.
Anna would often visit Arin, the two of them sitting together with cups of tea neither of them really finished. They compared cravings, laughed about their moods, and sometimes simply sat in silence, knowing the other understood.
"I cried for no reason yesterday," Anna admitted one morning, embarrassed.Arin smiled knowingly. "Yesterday? I cried because I dropped a spoon. Mark thought something terrible had happened."
Both women burst into laughter, their voices filling the quiet room.
Meanwhile, Tom and Mark carried their own burdens. Tom tried to learn everything—books about fatherhood piled on the table, articles saved on his phone. He paced at night when Anna felt restless, always ready with water or her favorite food.
Mark was different—calmer, steadier. He never read books, but he paid attention. If Arin mentioned a small ache, he remembered. If she looked tired, he silently took care of the chores. His way wasn't loud—it was a shield, steady and protective.
Sometimes the two men clashed."You can't just sit back," Tom argued once. "You need to prepare.""And you can't plan every step," Mark replied evenly. "Sometimes you just… show up. That's enough."
But beneath the arguments was a deep respect. Each man saw the other's love, expressed differently but just as real.
The funniest moments were the cravings.
One late night, Anna demanded, "Tom, I need mangoes. Right now.""It's midnight, Anna!" Tom groaned, but five minutes later, he was already out the door.
Across town, Mark was quietly cooking noodles because Arin suddenly decided it was the only thing she could eat. She sat on the counter, giggling as he stirred."You're spoiling me," she teased."I know," he replied simply, sliding the bowl into her hands.
As months passed, their bond as two couples grew unshakable. They went to doctor visits together, took turns reassuring each other when the anxiety grew heavy, and even joked about their unborn children being "playmates from the womb."
One evening, Anna and Arin sat together, hands resting over their growing stomachs."Do you ever get scared?" Anna whispered."All the time," Arin answered. Then she smiled softly. "But when I think about us… about them growing up together… the fear doesn't win."
Anna squeezed her hand. "We'll raise them side by side. Like sisters.""Like family," Arin corrected.
In the other room, Tom and Mark listened quietly, exchanging a rare look. Without words, they understood the same thing: this wasn't just about children. It was about a bond that would last a lifetime.