Content Warning:
This chapter includes references to vomiting, fainting, and medical tension during an ultrasound. While treated with sensitivity and care, it may be emotionally intense for some readers. Reader discretion is advised.
Vanessa
After lunch, the guys tell us they need to head back to the studio, and we take the chance to invent a "girls' outing." Shawn tells Wenn he'll take care of her car, and we have no problem using Melbourne's public transport. It's part of the adventure, part of this new freedom that makes me feel like the world is mine for a few hours.
We say goodbye to the guys as they climb into the car, and then—possibly guided by the adrenaline of my newfound liberty and his gaze—I decide to say goodbye to Maeson in a slightly more special way. He hasn't stopped looking at me since we left the restaurant. I walk the short distance to the driver's side, where he stands, frozen like a paused scene. I hug him, and give him a small kiss on the cheek.
I hear Shawn's whistle and the girls' laughter. My bravery vanishes. We lock eyes, and his smile—more mischievous than usual—undoes me. I can't handle the sensations. I pull away before he can say anything, dragging the girls with me. I glance back one last time, and he's still there, watching me. His eyes promise more than his words ever could.
We cross the corner, the car drives past us, and then Melissa stops me.
"No, no, no. Vanessa!" she says, in full detective mode. "You're going to talk about what's going on with Maeson. Right now."
Wenn joins in, amused.
"Yeah, enough with the glances and sighs. Spill!"
My nerves eat me alive. I can't speak clearly. I laugh, but my body's trembling.
"Let's get to the tram first," I say. "I need to organize my thoughts. I can't talk about it here."
Mel and Wenn give me skeptical looks, but they agree.
The afternoon light spills over Swanston Street like liquid honey. The air smells of fresh coffee and dry leaves, and the footsteps of pedestrians sound like a soft choreography against the concrete. When we arrive, we wait at the stop, right at the edge of the sidewalk, where a green sign with the number 5 sways gently in the wind.
In the distance, the tram appears: a long, white-and-green figure gliding elegantly between buildings. Its electric hum is almost a whisper, as if it doesn't want to interrupt the trees' conversation. The windows reflect the golden sky, and for a moment it looks like an urban creature—half machine, half daily ritual.
It stops precisely in front of us. The doors open with a soft click. Inside are calm faces, some reading, others staring out the window as if searching for answers in the rooftops. Wenn and Mel board first. The floor vibrates faintly beneath their feet.
Just as I'm about to step in, someone bumps into me, and I watch in slow motion as the papers in his hand fly away, carried by Melbourne's windy afternoon. I look up and meet a boy with caramel skin and deep green eyes who looks at me like he already knows me. We stay like that for a few moments, until Mel's voice snaps me back to reality.
"Come on, girl, the tram's leaving!" Mel shouts, desperate.
I barely manage to climb aboard, and the tram starts moving. Melbourne turns into a silent film rolling beside it, scene by scene. The green-eyed boy stays at the stop, watching the tram, and I'm left with the feeling that I know him.
Already on the tram, we head toward the clinic where Wenn's going to have her ultrasound. As soon as we sit down, Melissa looks at me like I'm her patient.
"You're seated. No more excuses. Spill!"
I sigh, fix my hair, look at them, and begin.
"I don't really know what I feel. Honestly. I've never had a boyfriend. You both know that. But when I'm with him... since the first day I saw him on the beach... I feel something I can't explain. It's like an irresistible urge to be near him, to touch him, to find any excuse for contact. And then, the day we found out about your pregnancy, the day Melissa arrived—that day, I think he almost kissed me."
Melissa smiles tenderly. Wenn just looks at me with love.
"And me, unknowingly blocking the first kiss. How embarrassing," Mel says, laughing. "I owe you one—come here," she jokes, pretending to kiss me.
We laugh, and that helps me continue.
"I like how he thinks, how he talks to me, how he treats me. I like his looks, obviously. But more than that... I like how he makes me feel. Like I can be myself. Like I don't have to hide anything."
Wenn grows more serious.
"Maeson is special. He always seems calm, but he carries everyone's problems. He has a good heart. But he also has shadows."
Melissa tilts her head.
"Shadows?"
"Yes," says Wenn. "Even though his family loves him, he's always been in competition with his older brother. That marked him. He struggles to trust. He has confidence issues. He doesn't say it, but you can tell."
I think about it, and say:
"I've noticed. Especially when he's around Konnor. He gets... different. Like he needs to stake his claim. Like he can't help becoming possessive."
"Exactly," says Wenn. "We've seen it. But with you, he seems different. More open. More himself."
Melissa takes my hand.
"If he makes you feel free, don't let go. But don't lose yourself in him either. You're enough on your own."
I smile. I feel seen. I feel good.
The tram stops. We've arrived at the clinic. Wenn stands, and we follow her. The day is just beginning, but it already feels like one of those you never forget.
Wenn
When we arrived at the restaurant, I felt it. That pressure in my stomach that wasn't hunger or anxiety, but something more urgent, more physical, more inevitable. I pretended to be calm for as long as I could. I sat like nothing was wrong, looked at Shawn like I didn't want to run away that very instant—but he noticed. I saw it in his eyes. And just when I thought I could hold on a little longer, my body decided for me.
I ran, but didn't make it. I threw up right in front of the bathroom door, shame crawling up my spine like it was going to devour me whole.
And then I felt it. His hands. His voice. His calm. Shawn wrapped his arms around me like the world wasn't watching, like I wasn't a mess, like nothing mattered except holding me. He told me everything was okay, and even though I didn't fully believe it, something in his tone helped me breathe.
He led me to the bathroom gently, like he was carrying something fragile, like I was a porcelain doll that couldn't break. He guided me to the small bench beside the sink, helped me sit, and then moved with a tenderness that made me tremble. He took a paper towel, dampened it with warm water, and cleaned my face with care. He didn't rush. He didn't flinch. He did it like every gesture was a way of saying "I love you even like this." He cleaned my hands, tucked my hair behind my ear, and then left without a word.
He came back with a bottle of water, offered it silently, and I took it with trembling hands. He told me not to worry, that someone was already cleaning outside, that I just needed to rest for a moment. He hugged me, and I stayed there, feeling his chest against my forehead, his hand on my back, his warmth wrapping around me like a blanket in the cold.
He leaned in to kiss me, but I pulled away with a grimace I couldn't hide.
"I just threw up," I whispered, feeling more uncomfortable than ever.
He smiled—not with mockery, but with that tenderness that makes me want to cry.
"That'll never bother me. I chose you for the good and the bad. For always."
I laughed, softly, like someone who's finally allowed to breathe again.
"I still feel awkward."
"And I respect that too," he replied, without hesitation.
I took out the toothbrush I always carry in my purse, brushed my teeth slowly, like the water could wash away the shame. When I finished, I walked up to him, and this time I kissed him. His mouth tasted like home.
He didn't ask why I threw up. He didn't push. He just looked at me with that way he has of saying "I'm here." He asked if I felt better, and when I nodded, he took my hand and we walked back to the table together.
When we arrived, I noticed Melissa and Vanessa weren't there. I paused for a moment, looked at Maeson, who was sitting with the others.
"Where are Mel and Vane?"
Maeson looked at me calmly, like he already knew I was going to ask.
"They left after you got sick. Didn't say much."
I nodded, said nothing else. I sat down, drank some water, and waited.
A few minutes later, they returned. Vanessa's face was tense. Melissa's eyes were red, but dry. I approached Mel slowly, without intruding.
"Where did you go?"
She looked at me—not evasively, but heavily.
"I'll tell you later. It's a hard conversation for me."
I decided not to press. I looked at her hand and held it for a second. And that was enough.
When we arrived at the clinic, I began to feel the reality of the situation. These past two days, even though I've been aware of it, haven't settled in my mind as a tangible truth. But being here, signing papers, waiting to enter a room where, besides the discomfort, they'll tell me how big my little twist of fate is and probably flood me with more information than I can handle... everything becomes real.
My only regret is that Shawn isn't beside me to hear something that's going to change both our lives.
A nurse calls my name. Her voice is kind but firm, like she knows I need support more than instructions. I stand, walk toward her, and the hallway feels longer than it is. The ceiling lights flicker slightly, and the smell of disinfectant mixes with the soft perfume on her neck. She offers me a gown, points to the bathroom, and tells me to take my time.
I change. The cotton brushes my skin like paper—rough in some places, almost invisible in others. I feel exposed. Vulnerable. But also... ready. Like something in me knows this moment can't be postponed any longer.
I ask to go in alone. For comfort. For fear. For not having to see anyone's face if something goes wrong. She nods without asking, and walks me to the door of the room.
Inside, the light is dim, as if the space understands that clarity isn't needed to see what matters. The doctor greets me professionally. Her voice is low, her gaze precise. I lie down on the stretcher. The paper crinkles beneath me, and the air is cold, as if silence had a temperature.
The gel wakes my body. It's cold, unexpected, a reminder that I'm here, that this is real. The monitor turns on, and the soft hum of the machine blends with the quick beat of my heart. And then, without expecting it, I realize I do want to see. I do want to know it's there. That it's alive. That I'm not alone.
I get emotional. My chest trembles. I bite my lip to keep from crying. The monitor shows moving shadows, shapes I don't understand, but already feel as part of me.
But the doctor's face changes. She goes silent. Looks at the monitor. Frowns. The air grows heavier. My heart races.
"Is everything okay?" I ask, voice cracking, like each word is a tightening string.
She doesn't answer right away. Just moves the device, adjusts the angle, tilts her head. The silence stretches. And then, two words:
"Twins."
Two lives beating inside me. Two moments.
Me, staring at the monitor.
Me, feeling the world stop—
and losing consciousness.
Melissa
Vanessa and I are outside, chatting. The air is fresh, and for the first time in days, I feel like I can breathe without my chest weighing me down. The sky is painted a soft blue, with clouds like brushstrokes, and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind accompanies our words like the world knows we need calm.
"I'm looking for a job," I say, watching the light filter through the trees. "I've checked a few places. Nothing glamorous, but something that gives me independence."
Vanessa smiles, with that expression that blends pride and tenderness.
"I'm happy knowing I'll be working with the guys. I feel like I'm finally doing something I love. Something that lets me be myself."
"What if we look for a place together?" I suggest, voice low, like the idea is a sweet secret. "Something small. But ours."
Vanessa laughs. Her eyes light up.
"With big windows. And plants. Lots of plants."
And just then, the clinic door bursts open. A nurse rushes out, face tense, voice urgent.
"Are you family of Wenn? I need you to come and help the patient."
We look at each other and stand almost instantly. The body reacts before the mind. We enter the room, and the air shifts. It's colder, heavier. The monitor is still on, projecting shadows that move like they have a life of their own. And Wenn is unconscious, her body still, like the impact shut her down for a moment.
The doctor checking her vitals stops us with a firm hand.
"Stay calm. It's normal. It was the shock of the news."
I tense immediately. Vanessa goes pale, like the color drained from her face.
"What news?" she asks, voice trembling, like she already knows something big is coming.
The doctor approaches with a smile that tries to be gentle but can't hide the surprise.
"Twins."
Vanessa sits. Not out of weakness, but because the world seems to tilt suddenly. She says nothing. Just breathes. Like she can't believe it. Like air is the only thing holding her up.
I do what I was taught. I stay composed. I walk up to the doctor with a steady voice, even though everything inside me is shifting.
"I need the consultation schedule, medications, and follow-up details from now on. I don't want to overwhelm her right now. I'll update her later."
The doctor nods, leads me to a side room to speak calmly. Vanessa stays with Wenn, who's beginning to wake up. She hugs her. Holds her. And even though they don't speak, the silence between them is louder than any word.
It's their own language.
A refuge.