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MidReal Story
Graduation Cap
Scenario:Damn saying me Graduating in 2012 from whetstone high school and walking the stage Nationwide Arena in a room full of my peers is fake and paying for my own cap and gown and whatever debt or fees I owe in high school that's weird what year y'all graduated I know I graduated in 2012 is y'all mad cuz I finished school in 2012 Congratulate me I Graduated CLASS OF 2012 aye do you still sell class of 2012 stuff Whetstone high School I done move so much I done lost my cap and gown 13 years later what the hate about I'm getting this money what they mad at me cuz I'm running from the Throne I tell my dad on you y'all don't want to see him pissed off oh Father the King John Ware they mad at me cuz getting this money father I call Treason mad at me cuz I'm getting money On Allah it's too late for a Truce now nope I don't care I don't want to hear sorry I'd apologize I was just working getting this money I wasn't disturbing nobody FATHER my hater mad because they didn't graduate.
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John Ware
He is a high school graduate who moved frequently and never kept in touch with old friends. He is determined, resilient, and proud. After graduating from Whetstone High School in 2012, he struggled financially and took on odd jobs to support himself. He eventually made it financially and bought a mansion. His father disapproves of his lifestyle, calling him a traitor. John holds onto his past accomplishments, such as finishing high school in 2012 despite frequent moves.
First Side Character (Name Not Provided)
He is a former high school acquaintance of John's from Whetstone High School. He is observant, skeptical, and slightly resentful. When he discovers that John graduated in 2012 without being present at their reunion, he feels left out and wonders how John managed it. He views John's success with a mix of awe and jealousy, unsure of how to process the news without feeling bitter or regretful about his own life choices.
Treasure
She is John's current partner and works with him. She is supportive, ambitious, and caring. Treasure helps John manage his business and lives with him in his mansion. She encourages him to expand his operations and address his past anxiously lingering debt. Treasure is pregnant with John's child, and they plan to start a family. She stands by John through his interactions with his disapproving father, showing loyalty and dedication to their future together.
Damn saying me Graduating in 2012 from whetstone high school and walking the stage Nationwide Arena in a room full of my peers is fake.
I had to pay for my own cap and gown, whatever debt or fees I owed in high school that’s weird.
What year y’all graduated?
I know I graduated in 2012, is y’all mad cuz I finished school in 2012?
Congratulate me CLASS OF 2012 aye do you still sell class of 2012 stuff?
Whetstone high School I done move so much I done lost my cap and gown 13 years later what the hate about?
I’m getting this money what they mad at me cuz I’m running from the Throne.
I tell my dad on you y’all don’t want to see him pissed off oh Father the King John Ware they mad at me cuz getting this money father I call Treason mad at me cuz I’m getting money On Allah it’s too late for a Truce now nope I don’t care I don’t want to hear sorry I’d apologize I was just working getting this money I wasn’t disturbing nobody FATHER my hater mad because they didn’t graduate.
I remember those days, I was struggling financially but determined to make it out, buying my own cap and gown for graduation.
My father never liked me, even when I finally made it, he criticized me for not attending college.
But Treasure, my partner, always supported me.
I walk through the hallways of our mansion, checking each closet for my old high school stuff.
The moving boxes from our last place are still stacked in corners, some unopened.
Treasure follows behind me, her pregnant belly slowing her steps.
I tell her about the graduation ceremony at Nationwide Arena, how I scraped together money for the cap and gown.
She helps me search through dusty cardboard boxes, but we only find recent paperwork and business receipts.
My hands shake when I realize all physical proof of my graduation is gone.
I sit on the hardwood floor, surrounded by opened boxes and scattered papers.
My hands tremble as I push aside another stack of business contracts, finding nothing from my graduation.
Treasure waddles over, her pregnant belly leading the way, and lowers herself beside me.
She picks up a dusty folder, revealing more financial documents from our latest venture.
My jaw clenches as I remember my father's words about betraying the family legacy.
The search feels pointless now - those proof of graduation items are long gone.
I slump against the wall, my head in my hands.
Treasure touches my shoulder gently, her voice soft.
"Hey, we can call Whetstone High School. They should have records."
I shake my head, remembering the fees I owed when I left high school.
I never paid them, and they probably still have a hold on my records.
"I owe them money," I admit.
Treasure pulls out her phone, determined.
She searches for the school's number and holds it out to me.
"Let's just call and see what they say," she insists, her eyes full of encouragement.
I hesitate, taking the phone reluctantly.
"What if they won't help because of the debt?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
I stare at the phone screen, the school's number displayed and ready to dial.
My thumb hovers over the call button, but I can't bring myself to press it.
Memories of those unpaid fees churn in my stomach like a bad meal.
Treasure gets up, waddling to the kitchen and returning with a glass of water.
She places it next to me on the floor, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Here," she says softly.
"Drink this."
I take a sip, the cool water soothing my parched throat.
It gives me a moment to gather my thoughts, but my mind is still a jumbled mess.
I look back at the phone screen, the numbers blurring together.
"Are you sure?" she asks, her voice gentle but insistent.
I nod, taking a deep breath.
Before I can change my mind, I press the call button.
The dial tone echoes through the empty living room of our mansion.
Each ring makes me grip the phone tighter, my palms growing sweaty against the smooth screen.
I hold my breath as a woman's voice answers on the other end.
"Whetstone High School, how may I help you?"
Her voice is friendly, but it tightens my throat.
I clear my throat, trying to find my voice.
"Hi, I graduated in 2012 and I need proof," I manage to say, my voice cracking.
The woman's tone remains polite.
"Okay, what kind of proof do you need? Your transcript or diploma?"
"I lost both," I admit, feeling a lump form in my throat.
"I had them in my cap and gown, but they were stolen."
There's a pause on the other end of the line, and I can hear the sound of fingers typing on a keyboard.
"Okay, let me see what we can do. Can you give me your full name?" she asks.
My grip on the phone tightens as I dread the moment she finds out about my unpaid fees.
Treasure notices and squeezes my hand reassuringly.
I close my eyes and force the words out: "John Ware."
The woman on the line pauses, and I hear more typing.
"Alright, John," she says, her voice calm. "We do have your records, but there's a note about outstanding fees."
Treasure leans closer to the phone, her voice firm yet kind. "Is there any way we can resolve this today? We really need those documents."
The woman's voice is apologetic.
"Of course, let me explain the fees. There's the $120 for the cap and gown, $50 for a missing textbook, and $75 in cafeteria charges. With late fees, the total comes to $450."
I lean against the wall, my phone pressed tight to my ear.
Treasure pulls out her tablet and opens our banking app before I can protest.
The woman on the phone explains that there are three options: one payment of $450, two payments of $225 each, or three payments of $150 each.
My throat tightens as I remember scraping together lunch money from my locker or begging for a dollar from friends just to buy a bag of chips.
But I force myself to speak clearly.
"I'll do one payment of $450," I say, staring at Treasure in disbelief as she starts typing on her tablet.
"Let me handle this," she whispers, covering the speaker with her hand.
I watch as she inputs the payment information, her other arm cradling her pregnant belly.
The woman on the phone waits patiently on the line as Treasure completes the transaction.
I want to stop her, to insist on paying myself, but she gives me a look that silences my protest.
When the payment confirmation dings on her tablet, she hands the phone back to me.
"Thank you for your patience, John," the administrator says.
"Your payment has been processed. You should receive an email with instructions to access your transcript and diploma."
I grip the phone harder, fighting back tears.
"Thank you," I manage to say before hanging up.
I lean against the wall, phone still warm in my hand.
Treasure sits beside me on the marble floor, her tablet still open with the payment confirmation on the screen.
My chest feels lighter, but guilt gnaws at me for letting her pay.
When I open my mouth to thank her, my voice catches.
She takes my hand and squeezes it, her wedding ring cool against my palm.
I stare at our intertwined fingers, finally managing to whisper "thank you."
The email pings softly on her tablet, and I lean back against the cold marble wall, trying to process what just happened.
She shifts closer, her pregnant belly brushing against my arm as she settles beside me.
The marble floor is hard beneath us, but neither of us moves to get up.
My throat tightens as I think about how she handled everything – the phone call, the payment, my hesitation.
We sit in silence, the only sound the hum of the air conditioner and the occasional ping of a notification on her tablet.
I watch as she scrolls through our banking app, the payment to Whetstone High School appearing in red at the top of the screen.
I clear my throat, breaking the silence.
"We should look over our budget," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
"With the baby coming, we need to make sure we're prepared."
Treasure looks up from her tablet, her eyes widening slightly in surprise.
"You want to go over our budget?"
I nod, reaching for the tablet.
"Yeah, it's important," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
She hands me the tablet, her expression softening.
"Okay, let's do it together," she says, a hint of relief in her voice.
I pull up our banking app, the screen's glow illuminating our faces in the dimly lit room.
She leans against my shoulder, her warmth a comforting presence as I navigate through the app.
I create a new spreadsheet, listing all our monthly expenses.
The mansion's mortgage is at the top of the list, followed by utilities, business costs, and then luxury items like private chefs and personal trainers.
My finger hovers over the frequent restaurant charges – $2,000 last month alone.
"We could cut back on eating out," I say, glancing at Treasure.
She nods in agreement, her eyes scanning the list.
"And maybe reduce our spa visits," she adds, pointing to the weekly charges from the high-end spa we frequent.
I nod and make a note to reduce those costs as well.
As I scroll down the list, my eyes land on the car payments for our three vehicles – a Mercedes-Benz S-Class for me and two Range Rovers for Treasure.
My heart sinks as I realize how extravagant it all seems. Treasure squeezes my hand gently, breaking my train of thought.
"Maybe we only need two cars," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner.
I look at her, surprised by her suggestion.
"You think so?"
I ask, my voice filled with uncertainty.
She nods again, her eyes filled with determination.
"We can make this work," she says, her voice filled with conviction.
I take a deep breath and delete the newest car payment from our projected expenses.
I scroll through the listings of luxury cars on my tablet, calculating the trade-in value for our black Range Rover Sport.
Treasure leans against my shoulder, pointing at SUVs that are safer for car seats and strollers.
The Range Rover's leather seats and chrome trim that once impressed clients now seem wasteful.
When Treasure shows me a practical Honda Pilot with high safety ratings, I nod slowly.
She pulls up our bank app, showing how the difference in car payments could cover the baby's future daycare costs.
I drive our Range Rover to the Honda dealership, my grip on the steering wheel tight.
Treasure sits in the passenger seat, her tablet open to the approved financing details.
The leather seats still smell new, reminding me of when I first bought this car to prove my success.
As we pull into the dealership lot, I spot the black Honda Pilot we discussed – practical, spacious, and good safety ratings.
A salesman approaches with paperwork in hand.
I grip the steering wheel one last time before shutting off the engine.
The leather feels cold under my hands as I stare at the Honda Pilot through the windshield.
Treasure shifts in the passenger seat, her tablet displaying our trade-in paperwork.
The salesman waits by the Pilot's driver door, holding a clipboard.
My hand trembles slightly as I reach for the door handle.
The Range Rover's door feels heavier than usual as I push it open.
Standing up, I hear the familiar beep of the luxury car's sensors for the last time.
I stand with the salesman at his desk, watching as he inputs numbers into his computer.
The trade-in value for our Range Rover appears on the screen, higher than I expected – $15,000 more than the online estimates.
Treasure squeezes my hand as the salesman explains they have a shortage of luxury trades.
He prints out the final paperwork, showing how our monthly payment dropped by $800.
When he slides the contract across his desk, I notice additional manufacturer rebates listed at the bottom.
My hand steadies as I reach for the pen to sign.
"Are you sure about this?" Treasure asks, her voice soft but steady.
I nod, feeling the weight of the decision lift slightly.
"Then let's do it," she says, her eyes meeting mine with a reassuring smile.
I hold the black pen over the contract, its tip hovering above the paper.
The fluorescent dealership lights shine off the glossy page, highlighting the terms one last time.
Treasure leans in close, her shoulder touching mine as I read through the fine print.
When I'm satisfied, I initial each page with a steady hand.
The salesman points to the final signature line, his finger tapping lightly on the desk.
I press the pen down firmly, feeling its weight against my palm.
My signature flows smoothly across the paper, each letter marking our commitment to this practical choice.
When I finish, the salesman slides a set of keys across his desk.
I stand in the dealership's fluorescent-lit office, holding our new Honda Pilot keys.
The metal feels different from the Range Rover's sleek fob – more substantial, practical.
Treasure reaches for them, her fingers brushing mine as I place them in her palm.
She leads the way through the glass doors, her pregnant belly making her walk slower than usual.
I follow behind, watching as she pulls the handle of our new family car.
The door opens with a solid thunk, and she climbs into the driver's seat, adjusting it for her comfort.
"Do you think we'll miss the old one?" she asks, glancing at me with a hint of nostalgia.
"Maybe a little," I admit, "but this feels right for us now."
She nods, her hand resting on her belly. "It's time for new adventures."
I adjust in the cloth seat, feeling the slight give of the material.
It's different from the Range Rover's supple leather, but comfortable in its own way.
Treasure presses the start button, and the engine purrs quietly to life.
The new car smell mingles with her vanilla perfume as she adjusts the mirrors and seat position.
The dashboard lights up with a myriad of safety features: lane assist, backup camera, collision warning.
She grips the steering wheel, testing its firmness, while I notice the spacious backseat through the rearview mirror.
As we pull out of the dealership, the road ahead feels open and full of promise.
I lean back and point to the highway exit for River Road.
Treasure nods, steering smoothly onto the winding path that follows the Scioto River.
The late afternoon sun reflects off the water through the trees, casting a warm glow over the landscape.
Our new car glides effortlessly around the curves, its engine quieter than the Range Rover's aggressive purr.
When we pass Whetstone Park, where I used to walk after school, Treasure slows down.
"Do you remember our first date here?" she asks, her voice soft with reminiscence.
I smile, nodding. "Yeah, you spilled ice cream on your dress and laughed it off like it was nothing."
She chuckles, glancing at me. "And you tried to impress me by climbing that old oak tree."
I point to an empty spot in the park's parking lot, and she carefully maneuvers our new Honda Pilot into the space.
The tires crunch on the gravel, a familiar sound from my high school days.
Through the windshield, I see the old oak tree standing tall, its branches stretching towards the sky.
My legs feel stiff as I step out of the car, but I walk around to help Treasure.
She takes my offered hand, her other hand supporting her pregnant belly as she exits the vehicle.
"Do you think he'll love it here as much as we did?" Treasure asks, her eyes lingering on the oak tree.
I squeeze her hand gently. "I hope so; it's where everything started for us."
She smiles softly, a hint of anticipation in her gaze. "Then it's the perfect place to start his story too."
I guide her along the familiar path, the tree looming closer with each step.
The thick branches spread wide above us, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
Treasure walks slowly, one hand on her belly, the other gripping my arm for balance on the uneven terrain.
The late afternoon sun filters through the leaves, casting a warm glow over her face.
As we reach the base of the tree, I point to the spot where she dropped her ice cream three years ago.
The grass has grown over that place, but the memory remains clear in my mind.
I help Treasure settle onto a wooden bench beneath the oak tree, keeping my arm around her shoulders for support.
She leans against me, both hands cradling her belly.
The familiar scent of grass and earth fills the air as we watch kids playing frisbee in the distance.
A gentle breeze stirs the leaves above us, casting dappled shadows on the ground.
"Look," I say, pointing to an ice cream cart rolling along the path.
It's an old-fashioned cart, just like the one from our first date.
Treasure laughs softly, her eyes following the cart as it passes us.
"Remember when I dropped my ice cream right here?" she asks, her voice filled with nostalgia.
I nod, smiling at the memory.
"I thought you were upset," I admit. "I wasn't upset," Treasure says, turning to face me.
"I did it on purpose."
I raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Why would you do that?"
I ask, genuinely curious about her reasoning.
She shrugs slightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I wanted to see how you'd react," she confesses. "And what did you think when I offered you my jacket to cover up the stain?" she asks, her voice teasing. I smile at the memory.
"I thought you were kind and considerate," I reply honestly.
"You showed me the man you really were that day."
I sit in comfortable silence with Treasure on the park bench, our shoulders touching as we watch children playing in the distance.
The setting sun casts long shadows through the oak branches above us.
A gentle breeze lifts a strand of her dark hair across her face.
Without thinking, I reach over, my fingers trembling slightly as I tuck the wayward strand behind her ear.
My hand lingers against her warm cheek for a moment longer than necessary.
She turns toward me, her brown eyes meeting mine.
For the first time, I notice tiny freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose.
I shift on the hard bench, my leg brushing against hers.
The sun casts long shadows through the oak branches above us, and children's laughter echoes from a distant playground.
My heart races as I lean closer to her, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla perfume mixed with the earthy smell of the park.
"Want to get some ice cream?" my voice comes out softer than I intended.
Her eyes light up at my words, and she grabs my hand with unexpected strength.
"Only if you promise not to drop yours this time," she teases, a playful grin spreading across her face.
I chuckle, squeezing her hand gently.
"Deal, but only if you promise to tell me more secrets like that one."
I help Treasure rise from the bench, steadying her with both hands.
She adjusts her balance, her pregnant belly making the simple movement more challenging than expected.
Once standing, she links her fingers through mine, and we begin walking slowly across the grass.
The ice cream cart's bell rings in the distance, drawing children from the playground.
We take our time, letting others go first while I guide Treasure around uneven spots in the lawn.
As we approach the cart, Treasure glances at me with a mischievous smile.
"There's something else I haven't told you," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
I stop, curiosity piqued, and look into her eyes. "What is it?"
She doesn't answer, instead pulling me along by the hand until we reach the ice cream cart.
We stand in front of it, and she looks up at me with a playful glint in her eyes.
"Tell me," I urge, my heart pounding in my chest.
She leans close, her breath warm against my ear.
"I'll tell you after we order," she whispers, then pulls away with a mischievous grin.
I sigh, trying to calm my racing heart.
My mind runs wild with possibilities as I watch Treasure examine the menu board above the cart.
She points at something, and the vendor nods before scooping ice cream into a cone.
Treasure turns back to me, her lips barely moving as she speaks.
"They have birthday cake flavor now."
I stare at her, relief and amusement washing over me.
"You little trickster," I whisper, shaking my head.
She shrugs, her smile widening as she takes the cone from the vendor and pays for our ice cream.
I watch as she lifts the cone to her mouth and takes a bite.
"Okay, okay, but seriously, there's something else," she says, her tone shifting to something more serious.
I raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "You're not just teasing me again, are you?"
She shakes her head, her expression softening. "No, this time it's real."
I watch her face, seeing the softness in her eyes as she speaks.
"Yesterday, I got a letter," she says, her voice filled with emotion.
"I've been waiting for it for months."
I feel a surge of curiosity, my heart beating faster.
"What is it?"
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
She glances down at her ice cream cone and then back at me.
"I applied to the downtown art institute months ago," she explains.
"I wanted to keep it quiet until I knew for sure if I got in. I didn't want to add any more stress while you were pregnant."
My mind races as I process her words.
The downtown art institute is one of the most prestigious art schools in the city.
I can't believe Treasure kept this secret from me all this time.
"I got accepted," she says, a small smile playing on her lips.
"For next semester's painting program."
I feel like my heart is about to burst with excitement.
"Treasure, that's amazing!"
I exclaim, pulling her into a tight hug. She hugs me back, and we stand there for a moment, the ice cream cones forgotten in our hands.
Finally, she pulls away and looks up at me with a serious expression.
"There's something else you need to know," she says, her voice trembling slightly.
"The program is only in the evenings. It's flexible enough that I can take care of the baby during the day and go to school at night."
I stare at her, my mind racing with all the possibilities.
"Treasure," I start to say, but before I can finish my sentence, she cuts me off by gently pushing my ice cream cone toward my mouth.
"Eat your ice cream," she says with a soft laugh.
I open my mouth and take a bite of the cold treat just as it starts to drip down the side of the cone onto my shirt.
We laugh together, knowing that this messy, beautiful chaos is just the beginning.
I guide Treasure to a shaded bench near the oak tree, steadying her with my free hand while balancing my dripping ice cream cone in the other.
She settles onto the wooden seat, adjusting her position to make room for her growing belly.
Between bites of her birthday cake ice cream, she pulls out her phone and taps on the screen.
She turns it to face me, showing me the art institute's course schedule.
I lean closer, my shoulder pressing against hers as I study the small screen.
She points out the specific painting classes she plans to take, and I notice that the evening schedule perfectly aligns with our future daycare arrangements.
"See? We can make this work," she says, her voice filled with determination.
I nod, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. "I never doubted you for a second."
She smiles, her eyes glistening with gratitude. "Thank you for believing in me."
I hold her close on the bench, both of us still looking at her phone showing the art institute schedule.
A middle-aged woman walking her golden retriever passes by, casting a friendly smile in our direction.
Her gaze lingers for a moment, and I notice her eyes widen slightly as she takes in Treasure's visible pregnancy.
"Excuse me," the woman calls out, tugging gently on her dog's leash to stop him from pulling further away.
"Would you like me to take your picture?"
She gestures toward the oak tree behind us, its branches stretching toward the sky like nature's own work of art.
"It's a beautiful backdrop," she suggests, her eyes twinkling with warmth.
Treasure looks up at me, and I can see the excitement in her eyes.
I nod, and she smiles, extending her hand toward me for help to stand up.
I assist her carefully, making sure she has her balance before we make our way to the base of the oak tree. The woman leads us to a spot where the setting sun casts a warm glow through the branches, illuminating Treasure's face with an ethereal light.
She takes my phone from me and adjusts the camera angle, ensuring that we are framed perfectly within the shot.
"Relax and be natural," she advises with a gentle smile.
I put my arm around Treasure's waist, feeling the soft curve of her belly against my side.
The woman raises my phone, and I look into Treasure's eyes, seeing our future reflected in their depths.
Suddenly, Treasure reaches out and dabs some of her melting ice cream on my nose, making me jump in surprise.
I wipe it away with my sleeve, leaving a smudge of vanilla on my shirt.
She bursts into a fit of giggles, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
The woman with the golden retriever waits patiently, phone still raised.
Grinning, I scoop a small dollop of vanilla ice cream with my finger and quickly dab it on Treasure's cheek.
She gasps in mock outrage, her eyes widening in surprise.
The woman snaps several photos as we laugh together, our faces smeared with melting ice cream.
Treasure tries to dodge another playful swipe, her belly bumping against me as she moves.
Her laughter echoes under the oak tree, mingling with the chirping of birds and the distant chatter of passersby.
I thank the woman for taking our photos, and she smiles warmly before continuing her walk with her golden retriever.
Treasure is still giggling softly, leaning against me as we scroll through the pictures on my phone.
Our faces are pressed close together, sticky with remnants of ice cream.
The sunset photos capture the genuine joy of the moment, but one picture stands out above the rest.
It's a shot where Treasure's eyes crinkle at the corners, her smile stretching from ear to ear.
Her face is smeared with ice cream, but in that moment, she looks more beautiful than ever.
We finish looking at the pictures, and Treasure suggests driving over to see the art institute building since we're already out.
I wipe the remaining ice cream from my face with a napkin and take her hand.
As we walk back to the car, Treasure squeezes my hand and says, "You know, I've been meaning to tell you something."
I glance at her, curiosity piqued. "What is it?"
She hesitates for a moment, then takes a deep breath. "I got a call from the gallery yesterday—they want to feature my work in their next exhibition."
I pull her close, wrapping my arms around her while being careful not to press on her pregnant belly.
The sticky ice cream residue on our faces presses together as we embrace.
"Congratulations, Treasure," I say, holding her tightly.
"I'm so proud of you."
When we finally pull away, I suggest going to Marcella's Italian Kitchen downtown to celebrate.
Her eyes light up at the mention of it.
She wipes a bit of ice cream from my cheek with her thumb and says, "Remember when we used to splurge there every week?"
I nod, smiling.
"Yeah, but then we had to cut back when we started budgeting for the baby."
She sighs wistfully, then smiles again.
"Let's treat ourselves tonight. It's a special occasion."
I pull out of Whetstone Park and take the familiar route downtown.
Treasure fiddles with the radio until she finds our favorite station playing soft jazz.
As we approach the intersection of High and Gay Streets, I slow down at the red light.
Treasure points out the window, her voice filled with excitement.
"Look, there's Marcella's!"
In the distance, I see the old neon sign glowing against the evening sky.
It reads "Marcella's Italian Kitchen" in elegant cursive letters.
The restaurant is nestled between a vintage clothing store and a used bookstore, giving it a cozy, intimate feel.
I smile as memories flood back—our second date, sitting at a small table by the window, sharing lasagna and laughter.
Treasure had ordered spaghetti but ended up eating most of my lasagna instead.
I tease her about it now, saying, "You know, you never finish your own food when we go there."
She laughs and admits, "I only order spaghetti to seem dainty. But their lasagna is just too good to resist."
I chuckle, shaking my head. "Well, tonight you can have all the lasagna you want."
Treasure grins mischievously. "Good, because I plan on eating for two."
I pull into Marcella's parking lot, finding a spot near the entrance so Treasure doesn't have to walk too far.
As I turn off the engine, I glance over at her under the warm glow of the restaurant's exterior lights.
I notice dried ice cream still on her cheek from our playful encounter at the park.
She catches me staring and touches her face self-consciously.
"Is there something on my face?"
I shake my head, smiling.
"No, you're perfect."
The light from the dashboard casts a soft glow on her skin, illuminating the natural beauty enhanced by pregnancy.
Her eyes sparkle with excitement as she talks about her art school news, adjusting her dress and smoothing out any wrinkles.
Before we get out of the car, I reach over and gently wipe the remaining ice cream from her cheek with my thumb.
We step out into the night, ready to celebrate the beginning of something new.
I hold the heavy glass door for Treasure as we step into Marcella's warm interior.
The hostess recognizes us, smiling as she greets us.
Her eyes land on Treasure's pregnant belly, visible under her sundress, and she says, "Right this way."
The aroma of garlic bread and marinara sauce fills my nose, making my mouth water.
We wait by the entrance while the hostess grabs two leather-bound menus.
She leads us past the bustling bar area, where patrons laugh and chat over drinks.
Treasure leans against me slightly as we follow the hostess.
I can smell her vanilla perfume mixed with the restaurant's savory scents.
Her hand stays linked with mine, her purse slung over her shoulder.
I slide into the leather booth after Treasure, watching as she adjusts her sundress and settles her belly against the edge of the table.
The hostess hands us each a menu, their corners worn from years of use.
She says, "Your waiter will be with you shortly," before walking away.
I glance at the menu, already knowing what I want.
Treasure and I have been here so many times that we can recite the specials by heart.
I look up as Tony, our usual waiter, approaches our table.
His eyes widen when he sees Treasure's belly.
We haven't been here since we found out about the baby.
He clears his throat and says, "Welcome back. I'll bring you our wine list."
Tony returns with a large leather-bound book containing their extensive wine selection.
He places it on the table and begins to recite the daily specials.
But before he can finish, Treasure interrupts him.
"Tony, can I get some water with extra lemon first?"
He nods and says, "Of course. And for you, sir?"
I smile and say, "Just water for me too."
As Tony walks away, I notice Treasure's hands shaking slightly as she holds the menu.
Her eyes are fixed on the lasagna section.
I reach across the table and place my hand on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of excitement and nervousness.
I say softly, "It's okay. We can celebrate later."
She smiles weakly and nods.
Tony returns with our water and places it in front of us.
He asks if we're ready to order, but I shake my head and say, "Give us a few more minutes."
As Tony walks away again, Treasure takes a sip of her water and sets it down carefully.
She looks at me with a determined expression and says, "I'm going to order the lasagna. It's my favorite."
I smile and say, "Go for it."
She nods and picks up her menu again.
Treasure takes a deep breath and looks at me, her voice steady.
"There's something else I need to tell you," she says, her eyes searching mine.
I lean in closer, sensing the gravity in her tone. "What is it?"
I grip my water glass, watching as Treasure fidgets with the edges of her menu.
The restaurant is filled with the usual chatter and clinking of silverware against plates.
But then, without warning, the overhead lights dim slightly.
A hush falls over the room as a single spotlight shines on the bar area.
A man in a black suit steps out from behind the bar, holding a violin case.
He sets it down on a chair and pulls out his instrument.
The room is silent now, everyone's eyes fixed on him.
He tucks the violin under his chin and draws his bow across the strings.
The familiar notes of "Can't Help Falling in Love" fill the air.
The same song that played during our first dance at our wedding reception.
Treasure's shoulders relax as she recognizes the tune.
Her eyes meet mine, shining in the low light.
I lean forward across our booth, the violin music swirling around us.
Other diners turn their heads to watch the musician, but my eyes stay fixed on Treasure.
Her pregnant belly presses against the edge of the table as she shifts closer to me.
The dim lighting catches the shine in her eyes when I whisper, "Dance with me?"
She hesitates for a moment, glancing down at her swollen feet in flat shoes.
Her hand trembles slightly as it rests on the table between us.
The violinist moves closer to our section, the melody growing stronger.
Treasure takes a deep breath and whispers back, "I don't know if I can stand for that long."
I smile gently and say, "Then let's just sway right here."
Her eyes soften as she nods, her fingers intertwining with mine across the table.
I hold her hands as we sway to the music, the violinist moving closer.
The other diners fade into the background, their conversations a distant hum.
The only light comes from the spotlight on the violinist and the soft glow of candles on each table.
Treasure winces slightly as her belly presses against the edge of the table.
I scoot closer to her, letting her lean against my shoulder for comfort.
The violinist stands near our booth now, his bow drawing out the final verses of our wedding song.
Treasure's perfume mingles with the scent of garlic bread wafting from nearby tables.
Treasure's voice is barely above a whisper as she says, "I wanted to tell you... it's twins."
My heart skips a beat, and I pull back slightly to look into her eyes. "Twins? Are you sure?"
She nods, a mixture of fear and joy in her expression. "The doctor confirmed it yesterday."
I sit frozen, my hands still linked with hers as the final notes of the violin fade away.
The word echoes in my mind: twins.
Our cramped mansion bedrooms flash through my mind, followed by images of two cribs, double strollers, and matching outfits.
My chest tightens with a mix of panic and excitement.
Treasure watches me carefully, her fingers trembling slightly in mine.
The candlelight catches the tears in her eyes as she waits for my response.
A slow smile spreads across my face as the reality sinks in.
I squeeze her hands gently, trying to reassure her. "This is incredible news, Treasure. We'll figure everything out together, I promise."
Her lips tremble into a smile, relief washing over her features. "I was so worried you'd be overwhelmed."
I shake my head, feeling the weight of the moment lift slightly. "Overwhelmed, maybe, but in the best possible way."
The violinist has moved on to another table, and the hum of conversations fills the restaurant once more.
But I barely notice, my focus still on Treasure.
I reach across the table with a steady hand, wiping away the tear that has rolled down her cheek.
Her skin is soft under my fingertips, and she leans into my touch.
The candlelight catches the shine of her wedding ring as she blinks up at me.
Tony approaches our table with menus, but I wave him off with a smile.
"Not yet," I say, needing this moment alone with Treasure.
She watches me anxiously, her eyes searching mine for reassurance.
I take a shaky breath, sliding closer to her side of the booth.
"Treasure, I know this changes everything, but I'm ready for it," I say softly, feeling the weight of my words.
Her eyes widen slightly, and she whispers, "You really mean that?"
"Absolutely," I reply, my voice steady. "I've never been more certain of anything in my life."
I slide closer to her in our booth, the candlelight casting a golden glow over her tearful face.
The hum of the restaurant fades into the background as I process the news.
Twins.
The word echoes in my mind, sending a mix of excitement and fear coursing through my veins.
My heart pounds in my chest as I struggle to find the right words to say.
Treasure's eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of hope and vulnerability.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I stop her before she can apologize for springing this on me.
I take both her hands in mine, feeling the warmth of her skin against my own.
The restaurant's ambient noise fades away as I look into her eyes, searching for answers.
The candlelight casts a soft glow over her features, illuminating the tears that still linger in her eyes. Without saying a word, I lean forward, pulling Treasure gently toward me.
I'm mindful of her pregnant belly, careful not to put too much pressure on it.
The leather seat creaks softly as I move closer, the sound blending into the background noise of the restaurant.
I lean across our booth at Marcella's, my heart pounding in my chest.
The candlelight casts a warm glow over Treasure's tear-streaked face, her eyes searching mine for answers.
The hum of conversations from other diners fills the air, but it's distant, fading into the background as I focus on her.
My throat feels tight with emotion as I take in her vulnerability, her lips trembling slightly.
Moving slowly, I shift closer in the booth, careful not to bump her pregnant belly against the table.
"Treasure, there's something I've been meaning to tell you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.
Her eyes widen in surprise, and she asks softly, "What is it?"
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. "I found out who my real parents are."
Her eyes widen, and I lean closer, my hands shaking as I grip the leather seat.
The violin music has stopped, leaving only the clink of silverware and the occasional burst of laughter from other tables.
I take a deep breath, letting the words spill out.
"I was going through some old records at home, looking for my graduation stuff, and I found these papers," I explain, my voice trembling slightly.
She reaches for my hand across the table, but I pull back, needing to get it all out before I lose my nerve.
"Treasure, the man who raised me... he's not my biological father," I say, my voice cracking on the last word.
The restaurant noise swirls around us - the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversations, and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
But all I can focus on is Treasure's face, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and concern.
"How long have you known?" she asks, her voice gentle but probing.
"Just a few days," I admit, my gaze dropping to the table. "I didn't know how to tell you, especially now."
I grip the leather booth seat, my eyes fixed on Treasure's face in the dim light of Marcella's.
My throat tightens as she moves closer, her pregnant belly brushing against the edge of the table.
The smell of her vanilla perfume mingles with the aroma of garlic bread wafting from the kitchen.
When she whispers her support, her breath tickles my ear.
I try to respond, but no words come out.
Instead, I stare at our half-empty water glasses, condensation dripping onto the white tablecloth.
Tony approaches with menus, but I wave him off, needing a few more minutes alone with Treasure.
I grip my water glass, the condensation cooling my trembling fingers.
The restaurant's dim lighting and the hum of conversations from other diners fade into the background as I focus on Treasure's face across from me.
Her eyes are filled with concern, her lips pressed together in a thin line.
The smell of garlic bread wafts from the kitchen, mingling with the scent of her vanilla perfume.
My throat feels tight, making each word feel like a struggle to get out.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself as I look at her.
She waits patiently, her hand resting protectively on her pregnant belly.
I know she's waiting for me to explain, but I'm scared to say the words out loud.
Finally, I release my death grip on the water glass and reach for her hand.
Her fingers curl around mine, anchoring me in a moment that feels like the beginning of everything new.
I grip her hand across the table, staring at our intertwined fingers under the dim lighting.
The truth burns in my throat, making each word feel like a betrayal.
I take a deep breath, letting the words spill out.
"I was going through some old records at home, looking for my graduation stuff, and I found these papers," I explain, my voice trembling slightly.
She squeezes my hand tighter, her eyes never leaving mine.
"Treasure, the man who raised me... he's not my biological father," I say, my voice cracking on the last word.
The restaurant noise swirls around us - the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversations, and the distant clatter of dishes from the kitchen.
But all I can focus on is Treasure's face, her eyes filled with a mix of surprise and concern.
"How long have you known?" she asks, her voice gentle but probing.
"Just a few days," I admit, my gaze dropping to the table.
"I didn't know how to tell you, especially now."
She reaches across the table and cups my cheek with her palm.
"It's okay," she says softly.
"We'll figure this out together."
I nod, feeling a lump form in my throat.
The violin music has stopped, leaving only the quiet hum of conversation around us. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of clinking glasses and muted laughter from other tables.
"For what?"
Treasure asks gently.
"For not telling you sooner."
She shakes her head.
"You didn't know how to tell me. It's not your fault."
I swallow hard, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me.
"I just... I don't want to ruin everything," I admit, my voice cracking with emotion.
"You could never ruin anything," Treasure assures me, squeezing my hand tighter.
"We're in this together."
The waiter returns with menus, but neither of us looks at them.
The weight of unspoken truths lingers between us, but her unwavering gaze tells me we're ready to face whatever comes next.
I grip her hand across the table, drawing strength from the warmth of her touch.
The words tumble out in a quiet rush.
"Maybe we should drive to Cincinnati this weekend. My mom's there. She's the only one who can give us answers."
Her eyes widen, concern etched on her face.
She glances down at her pregnant belly, then back to me.
"Are you sure you're ready for this conversation?"
I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest.
"I'm not," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But I need to know the truth before the twins arrive."
She nods, her hand tightening around mine.
The restaurant's soft glow casts shadows on her face, but her eyes stay locked on mine.
"Okay," she says softly.
I reach for my phone, pulling it from my purse.
It glows brightly on the table between our untouched water glasses.
I pull up my mom's contact information, her smiling profile picture from last Christmas staring back at me.
Treasure watches me closely, her expression a mix of concern and understanding.
"Are you sure you want to do this now?" she asks gently.
"We could wait until tomorrow."
I shake my head, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"If I don't do it now, I might lose my nerve."
Taking a deep breath, I press the call button.
The phone rings, each tone echoing through the quiet of Marcella's.
My mother's voice answers, and I know there's no turning back.
"Hello?"
My mother's voice is cheerful, a stark contrast to the knot in my stomach.
I clear my throat, trying to steady my voice.
"Hey, Mom."
Treasure squeezes my hand, offering silent support.
"Hi, honey. How are you? And how's Treasure?"
I glance at Treasure, who gives me a reassuring smile.
"We're good. We were just out for dinner."
"Oh, that sounds lovely," Mom says, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
"How are the babies?"
"They're fine," I reply, my voice strained.
"Mom, can we talk about something else?"
There's a slight pause on the other end of the line.
"Of course, honey. Is everything okay?"
I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I need to talk to you about something important. Something I can't do over the phone."
"Oh?" she says, her tone cautious.
"What is it?"
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion.
"I was thinking maybe Treasure and I could come visit this weekend."
The restaurant noise fades into the background as I focus on my mother's response.
There's a long silence on the other end of the line before she finally speaks.
"Okay," she says slowly.
"But is everything all right?"
I hesitate, unsure of how much to reveal over the phone.
"Yeah," I lie, avoiding Treasure's concerned gaze across the table.
"We just need to talk in person," I add, hoping she doesn't press further.
"Alright, honey," she replies, her voice softening with understanding.
"We'll be here, whenever you're ready."
I end the call, my hand still gripping Treasure's across the table.
Tony approaches, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor.
He carries a covered silver dish, its metal dome glinting in the candlelight.
As he places it between us, the scent of chocolate wafts up, teasing our senses.
Tony lifts the cover with a flourish, revealing a towering tiramisu adorned with chocolate shavings and fresh berries.
The chef remembers this was our wedding dessert, he explains with a smile.
Treasure's eyes fill with tears at this unexpected gesture of kindness.
"Tony, you always know how to make a moment special," Treasure says, her voice thick with emotion.
He grins, wiping his hands on his apron.
"Well, you two deserve it, especially with everything coming up."
I watch as Treasure wipes her eyes with a napkin, her makeup smudging slightly.
"Thank you, Tony," I say, my voice filled with gratitude.
He nods, placing two dessert spoons beside the tiramisu.
The silverware gleams in the candlelight, reflecting our happiness.
"Enjoy," Tony says with a smile before returning to the kitchen.
I look at Treasure, her eyes still shining with unshed tears.
"Let's focus on the happy news first," she suggests softly, her voice breaking through my heavy thoughts.
I nod, pushing aside the weight of my biological father's existence for now.
We have this moment to cherish together.
Treasure picks up her spoon and takes the first bite of the tiramisu.
Her eyes close in delight as the mascarpone cream melts in her mouth.
She opens her eyes, a smile playing on her lips as she points her spoon at my untouched portion of the dessert.
"Remember how you accidentally dropped this on my dress at our wedding?" she asks, her voice lighter now. I laugh, picking up my own spoon and digging into the creamy treat.
The sweetness coats my tongue, and I savor it before responding.
"How could I forget?"
I reply, meeting Treasure's gaze.
"That was quite an entrance."
Treasure chuckles, taking another bite of the tiramisu.
"Well, it definitely made our wedding memorable," she says with a grin.
"And now, here we are, making new memories," I say, my voice filled with warmth.
Treasure nods, her eyes softening as she looks at me.
"Yeah, and whatever happens this weekend, we'll face it together."
I sit there with Treasure, watching as she takes her last bite of the tiramisu.
The restaurant's dim lighting casts a warm glow on her face, and I notice the tears that still glisten in her eyes from our emotional evening.
As she dabs at her mouth with the napkin, I see a smudge of mascara left behind.
Without thinking, I reach across the table and gently wipe it away with my thumb.
Her skin feels warm under my touch.
Treasure catches my hand and holds it against her cheek, giving me a look that says everything will be okay.
In that moment, without any words, she offers me comfort and reassurance.
I lean forward across our shared dessert plate, drawn to her warmth and solace.
I lean across our booth at Marcella's, my hand still cradling Treasure's cheek.
The dim lighting of the restaurant casts shadows on her face, accentuating the vulnerability in her expression.
My thumb lingers on her skin, feeling the warmth that radiates from her.
The scent of vanilla perfume wafts up from her, mingling with the sweet aroma of tiramisu still lingering in the air.
As she squeezes my fingers and gives me a tender look, I feel the emotional weight of our evening bearing down on us—the revelation of the twins and my biological father.
The buzz of conversation from other diners fades into the background as I move closer to Treasure.
Her eyes meet mine, filled with a mix of sadness and hope.
My heart pounds in my chest, anticipation building as I inch nearer to her.
We kiss, sealing our promise to face whatever comes next together.
I pull back from our kiss at Marcella's, suddenly needing fresh air.
The restaurant feels too warm after our emotional revelations.
I catch Tony's eye and signal for the check.
Treasure dabs her eyes with a napkin, smudging more mascara.
When the bill arrives, I sign it quickly without checking the total.
Standing carefully, I reach for Treasure's hand to help her up from the leather booth.
She grabs her purse while balancing her pregnant belly.
"Are you ready to tell them about the twins?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I hesitate, glancing at her belly before meeting her eyes.
"Yeah, it's time they know," I reply, feeling a mix of fear and excitement.
I help Treasure through Marcella's heavy front door into the night air.
The street lamps cast a soft glow on her face as she adjusts her purse on her shoulder.
Traffic hums in the distance, a gentle accompaniment to our steps.
I watch her, my throat tightening with emotion.
She's been by my side through everything: searching for my graduation records, discovering the truth about my biological father, and now expecting twins.
A shiver runs down her spine as the cool breeze caresses us.
I pull her close, finally finding the courage to say what's been weighing on my heart.
"Treasure," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of the city.
"Let's call them from here."
I stand with Treasure outside Marcella's, my phone in hand.
Traffic rushes past on High Street, the neon sign of the restaurant casting a red glow on her face.
She leans against our Honda Pilot, her eyes fixed on me.
My thumb hovers over my mother's contact photo—the image of her smiling at last Christmas haunts me.
I feel a lump form in my throat as I contemplate the weight of the news we're about to share.
"Are you sure you don't want to sit in the car first?"
Treasure asks, her voice gentle.
I glance at her, noticing the concern in her eyes.
"Maybe that's a good idea," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
I look down at my hands, realizing they're shaking slightly.
The thought of telling my parents about both the twins and my biological father feels like a heavy burden to bear hopefully she understand now me and my biological father come from two different worlds he's King Crip in the city and I'm King blood in the city a lone wolf coming up in this world.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself for the call that will change everything.
I guide Treasure to our Honda Pilot, parked in Marcella's lot.
She carefully maneuvers her pregnant belly into the passenger seat.
The leather still smells new as I slide behind the wheel.
I pull my phone from my pocket, the glow of the screen illuminating the dashboard.
Street lights cast long shadows across the interior of the car.
I bring up Mom's contact photo again, my thumb hovering over the call button.
Treasure reaches over and takes my free hand in hers.
Her wedding ring feels cool against my sweating palm.
I sit there for a moment, staring at the photo of Mom on my phone screen.
The dashboard lights cast shadows across Treasure's face beside me.
I look at her and she gives me a reassuring smile.
I take a deep breath and press the call button.
The phone rings once, twice, and then Mom's voice answers.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Mom," I say, my voice steady.
"Hi, baby. How was dinner with Treasure?"
"It was good," I reply.
"We just got done."
"That's great," she says.
"I'm glad you two had a chance to catch up."
"Me too," I say, pausing for a moment.
"There's something I need to tell you."
"Okay," she says, her voice cautious.
"What is it?"
I take another deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts.
"You know how I've been searching for my graduation records?"
"Yes," she says.
"How's that going?"
I hesitate for a moment before answering.
"I found them," I say finally.
"Oh, that's great!" she exclaims.
"I'm so happy for you. Where were they?"
"They were in the school's archives," I explain.
"I had to dig through some old boxes to find them."
"Well, congratulations," she says.
"I'm so proud of you for not giving up." "Thanks," I say, feeling a mix of emotions.
"There's something else I need to tell you."
"Okay," she says again, her voice concerned this time.
"What is it?"
I take another deep breath before continuing.
"You know how I've always wondered about my biological father?"
"Yes," she says softly.
"I do."
"Well, I found out who he is," I say, my voice barely above a whisper now.
"Oh, baby," she says, her voice filled with emotion.
"I'm so sorry. Who is he?"
"He's someone from your past," I explain, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Someone you never told me about."
There's a long pause on the other end of the line before she speaks again.
"I'm sorry," she says finally, her voice filled with regret.
"I never meant to keep it from you. I just wanted to protect you."
"I know," I say softly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me now. "But now that I know the truth, there's something else I need to tell you."
"Okay," she says again, her voice cautious once more.
"What is it?"
"I understand," I say, gripping the phone tightly in my hand.
"But I need to know more about him."
"Of course," she says.
"What do you want to know?"
"I found his current address," I explain.
"He lives in Columbus."
"Oh," she says, sounding surprised.
"Are you going to go see him?"
I glance over at Treasure, who's watching me intently.
"I want to meet him," I say finally.
There's a long silence on the other end of the line before Mom speaks again.
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" she asks.
The dashboard lights illuminate Treasure's concerned face as she watches me struggle with this revelation.
"Yes, I need to know where I come from," I reply, my voice firm.
Treasure squeezes my hand gently, offering silent support.
"Just promise me you'll be careful," Mom says, her voice tinged with worry yes ma'am okay and I love you.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white as we leave downtown for Columbus.
Treasure sits quietly beside me, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, the other clutching the address I found in those old papers.
The late evening traffic thins as we merge onto I-71 North.
The city lights give way to the dark expanse of the highway.
"Do you want to wait until tomorrow?"
Treasure asks, breaking the silence.
I shake my head, knowing that if we wait, I'll lose my courage.
The address of my biological father burns in my mind - 345 East Broad Street, just thirty minutes away.
I park our Honda Pilot across from his house on East Broad Street, my hands frozen on the wheel.
Treasure shifts in her seat, her pregnant belly brushing against the dashboard as she leans toward me.
The streetlights cast shadows through the windshield while I stare at the brick two-story home.
The porch light glows yellow, illuminating a rocking chair and potted plants.
When Treasure touches my arm and whispers her support, I feel tears forming.
"Are you ready for this?" Treasure asks softly, her eyes searching mine.
"I don't know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But I have to do it."
She nods, her eyes filled with understanding.
The rocking chair on the porch creaks slightly in the breeze, casting eerie shadows across the potted plants.
I can feel my heart pounding in my chest as I stare at the house.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the steering wheel tighter, my palms growing sweaty.
Treasure shifts uncomfortably beside me, her pregnant belly visible in the dim glow of the dashboard lights.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing thoughts.
"I'll wait in the car if you want to go alone," Treasure whispers, her voice filled with concern.
I shake my head, reaching for the door handle.
"I'll be okay," I say, my voice trembling slightly.
The yellow porch light casts long shadows across the front yard, and the sound of the rocking chair creaking in the breeze makes my heart beat faster.
I sit frozen for a moment, my hand gripping the door handle tightly.
The dashboard lights cast an eerie glow over Treasure's face as she looks at me with concern.
Her pregnant belly presses against the dashboard, and her eyes are filled with worry.
I can feel my palm growing sweaty against the plastic handle, leaving a print when I finally let go.
I take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down as I stare at the house.
The rocking chair on the porch creaks again, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
After a few moments, I turn to Treasure for one last look of reassurance.
I grip the door handle again, my palm slick with sweat as I stare at the yellow-lit porch.
Treasure touches my shoulder, her pregnant belly making it difficult to lean across the center console.
The rocking chair creaks again, and I can feel my heart beating in time with its slow rhythm.
I pull the door handle, and the dome light floods the car interior.
My legs feel weak as I plant one foot on the concrete, then the other.
I close the door behind me, leaving the warmth of the car and stepping into the unknown.
I stand in my biological father's driveway, my feet heavy on the concrete as I move toward the porch.
The yellow light casts long shadows across the yard, and the crickets chirp in the background.
My dress shoes click against the pavement, the sound seeming too loud in the evening stillness.
When I reach the bottom step, I grip the wooden railing for support, my palm sweaty against the smooth surface.
Behind me, I hear Treasure shifting in the Honda Pilot, the engine still ticking as it cools.
I stand at my biological father's front door, my fist hovering inches from the dark wood.
The yellow porch light casts my shadow across the peeling paint, and the crickets chirp in the bushes.
My wedding ring catches the light as my hand trembles.
Behind me, the Honda Pilot's engine ticks as it cools, and I hear Treasure shifting in her seat.
The rocking chair creaks beside me, its empty motion seeming to mock my hesitation.
I lower my shaking fist and press it against the peeling door paint, feeling the rough texture beneath my knuckles.
The light casts harsh shadows on the wood, and I can feel my heart pounding in my chest.
I force my knuckles to rap three times against the door, the sound echoing through the quiet evening.
Behind me, I hear Treasure shift in the Honda Pilot's seat, and I know she is watching from the driveway.
The door swings open, revealing a man with eyes so similar to mine that I momentarily forget to breathe.
"You're here," he says, his voice a gravelly whisper, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years.
"Yeah," I reply, my voice barely steady, "I guess it's time we finally talk about what happened."
I stand frozen on my biological father's doorstep, my mouth opening and closing as I struggle to find the words.
His eyes are fixed on mine, the same shade of green that stares back at me in the mirror every day.
Behind me, I hear the Honda Pilot's car door hinges squeak and Treasure's footsteps on the concrete.
She appears beside me, her pregnant belly brushing against my arm as she takes my hand.
The scent of her vanilla perfume mingles with the evening air as she smiles warmly at my father.
"Hello," she says, her voice filled with genuine warmth, "I'm Treasure. It's nice to meet you."
My father's tense expression softens ever so slightly at her greeting, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
He nods curtly in response, his eyes darting between us.
I feel Treasure squeeze my hand gently, and suddenly I find my voice again.
"Let's go inside," I say, stepping over the threshold into the unknown.
The foyer is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of old books and stale air.
Treasure's hand remains steady in mine as she maneuvers her pregnant belly through the doorway.
The hallway stretches before us, lined with a faded beige wallpaper that seems to glow in the low light.
Dozens of framed photographs adorn the walls, catching the faint glow of the table lamps.
I take a step forward, my eyes drawn to the nearest photo.
It's an old picture, taken decades ago, judging by the clothes and hairstyles.
My heart skips a beat as I recognize my mother's face, her bright smile illuminating the entire frame.
She stands beside a man I've never seen before – my father – his arm wrapped protectively around her waist.
They are both dressed in formal attire, and behind them, I see a blurred image of a college campus.
A graduation ceremony?
I move closer to examine the photo more closely, my fingers reaching out to touch the glass. Treasure's grip on my hand tightens ever so slightly, as if she can sense my emotions swirling beneath the surface.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I don't dare look away from the photograph.
My father stands silently behind us, watching as I trace my mother's features with my fingertips.
"She was proud of you, you know," my father says softly, breaking the silence.
I turn to face him, my voice barely a whisper, "You knew her well?"
His gaze shifts to the photograph, a wistful smile tugging at his lips, "Better than anyone else ever could."
Treasure releases my hand, stepping forward to examine the photo more closely.
Her pregnant belly brushes against my arm, and I can feel the weight of her presence beside me.
"Look at them," she whispers, her voice filled with awe, "They look so happy."
She turns to face me, her eyes shining with a mixture of sadness and hope.
"We'll create our own memories like that," she says softly, her voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
I nod, unable to find the words to respond.
My father clears his throat, breaking the silence that has settled between us.
"There are more photos," he says, his voice rough with emotion.
"If you'd like to see them."
I glance up at him, meeting his gaze for the first time since entering the house.
His eyes are filled with a mixture of sadness and longing, as if he is searching for something in mine. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lies ahead.
"Yeah," I reply softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'd like that."
He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Follow me," he says, turning away from us and disappearing into the depths of the house.
Treasure squeezes my hand gently, her touch giving me the courage to follow him further into the unknown.
As we move deeper into the house, I catch glimpses of other photographs on the walls – snapshots of my mother's life before I was born.
We follow my biological father down the dimly lit hallway, Treasure's hand clasped tightly in mine.
Her pregnant belly makes her steps careful, and I can feel her breathing slow and steady beside me.
The floorboards creak beneath our feet as we approach a closed door at the end of the hall.
My father reaches out to turn the brass handle, and a musty scent wafts out into the hallway.
I step forward, my eyes adjusting slowly to the dim light within.
The room is small, with bookshelves lining the walls from floor to ceiling.
Leather-bound photo albums sit alongside stacks of yellowed papers and dusty artifacts.
In the center of the room, a large wooden desk stands under a single desk lamp, casting long shadows across the stacks of boxes labeled with dates.
My father gestures to the desk, his voice barely above a whisper, "This is where she kept everything."
Treasure steps closer, her eyes scanning the room with curiosity, "Did she ever talk about us?"
He hesitates for a moment, then nods slowly, "She wrote letters... letters she never sent."
He steps forward, reaching for one of the leather-bound photo albums.
His fingers brush against the worn cover, and he hands it to me gently.
"Here," he says softly, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and longing.
"These are the memories she wanted you to have."
I take the album from him, my fingers tracing the embossed letters on the cover.
The pages crackle as I open it, revealing a faded photograph of my mother standing with a group of people I've never seen before.
She's young, her smile bright and carefree, her arms wrapped around a man who stands tall beside her.
He wears glasses and has a kind smile, but I don't recognize him.
Treasure leans closer, her pregnant belly pressing against my arm as she examines the photograph more closely.
"Who are they?"
I ask softly, my voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
My father steps closer, his eyes scanning the photograph with a mixture of nostalgia and sadness.
"They were her friends," he says softly, his voice filled with a deep longing.
"They knew her better than anyone else."
I turn the page slowly, my fingers trembling as I reveal another photograph.
This time, it's a picture of my mother standing alone, her hair blowing gently in the wind.
She's dressed in a simple sundress, her eyes closed as if she's basking in the warmth of the sun. Treasure steps closer, her hand reaching out to touch the edge of the photograph gently.
"She looks so happy," she whispers softly, her voice filled with a mix of awe and sadness.
I nod slowly, unable to find the words to respond.
As I continue to turn the pages of the album, I see more faces that I don't recognize – people who knew my mother long before I was born.
They smile and laugh together in photographs taken at what looks like a college party.
There are pictures of them hiking through mountains and sitting by campfires under starry skies.
My father settles into the worn leather chair behind his desk, adjusting his glasses as he watches me turn the pages of the photo album.
The weight of the leather feels heavy in my lap, and I can feel Treasure's presence leaning against my shoulder.
She's silent as she watches me, her hand resting gently on my arm.
The desk lamp casts long shadows across the room, illuminating stacks of old letters and photographs scattered across the desk.
I glance up at my father, meeting his gaze for a moment before looking back down at the album.
"What was she like?"
I ask, my voice coming out stronger than I expected.
He picks up an envelope from the stack of papers on his desk, his hands shaking slightly as he pulls out a yellowed sheet of paper.
"She was... full of life," he says, his voice thick with emotion.
Treasure leans in, her eyes soft with understanding, "And the letters?"
He nods, unfolding the paper carefully, "They tell a story she never got to share."
I sit there with Treasure, turning the pages of the leather album slowly.
Each photograph reveals a piece of my mother's life that I've never known before.
Her face is young and full of life, surrounded by people I've never met.
There's one group of people who keep appearing in the photos – a man with glasses, a tall woman with curly hair, and two men wearing university sweatshirts.
They're always together, laughing and smiling.
As I turn the page to a photograph of them sitting around a campfire, my father's hands shake slightly as he points to each person in the photo.
"That's me," he says softly, pointing to the man with glasses.
"And that's Sarah... she was your mother's best friend."
Treasure holds onto my arm tightly, her vanilla perfume mingling with the musty smell of the old album.
"And who are they?"
My father takes a deep breath, his eyes lingering on the photograph.
"They're your uncles," he says quietly, "and they know more about her than I ever did."
Treasure's eyes widen with surprise, "Do they know about us?"
My father stands up from his chair and walks to a small antique cabinet in the corner of the room.
He pulls out a crystal decanter filled with amber liquid and pours some into three glasses.
I watch him, my heart pounding in my chest, as he hands me one of the glasses with slightly trembling hands.
"Here," he says softly, "I think we could all use a drink."
Treasure shakes her head, her voice barely above a whisper, "I can't... I'm pregnant."
My father's eyes widen in surprise, but he nods understandingly and hands the extra glass to Treasure.
She sets it down on the desk without touching it, her eyes still fixed on the photograph in front of her.
As I take a sip of the liquid, feeling it burn down my throat, my father settles back into his chair and looks at me with a mix of sadness and longing in his eyes.
"We have a lot to catch up on," he says softly, "and I don't know where to start."
I nod slowly, taking another sip of the liquid as I try to gather my thoughts, I say father mom never kept pictures so I don't have memories of y'all thank you for keeping the memories, I love you now I know what my parents look like when they younger, I appreciate this moment now I know what my family look like as I stand up and give him a hug.
The room is quiet for a moment, except for the sound of Treasure flipping through the pages of the album under the soft glow of the desk lamp. My father reaches for his phone, his weathered fingers typing slowly on the keypad.
"I want your number," he says softly, "so we can stay in touch."
I nod slowly, reciting my phone number to him as he types it into his phone.
His fingers move carefully over the touch screen, as if he's afraid to make a mistake.
As soon as he finishes typing, Treasure lets out a small scream of excitement from where she's sitting across from me.
She holds up an old Polaroid photo that she found tucked between two pages of the album.
It's faded and worn around the edges, but I can still make out the faces of two people cradling a tiny bundle between them.
My mother and father are smiling at each other, their eyes filled with love and adoration as they gaze down at their newborn child – me.
My father's glass freezes halfway to his lips as he sees the photo in Treasure's hand.
"Where did you find that?"
He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Treasure points to the album, "It was tucked between two pages."
My father sets his glass down on the desk, his hands shaking slightly as he reaches for the photo.
He takes it from Treasure's hand and holds it up to the light, studying it intently.
The desk lamp casts a warm glow over his face, illuminating the lines and wrinkles etched into his skin.
As he looks at the photo, tears begin to form in his eyes.
"I remember that day," he says softly, "like it was yesterday."
I watch as he traces the edge of the photo with his finger, his eyes never leaving the image of my mother and me.
"She insisted on taking that picture," he murmurs, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
Treasure leans closer, her curiosity piqued, "Why was it hidden away?"
My father sighs, placing the photo gently back into the album, "I think she wanted you to find it when you were ready."
I sit there, staring at the photo, my heart pounding in my chest.
I reach for the album, my hands trembling as I pull it closer to me.
The pages crackle as I turn them, revealing more images of my mother and father's youth.
As I turn another page, a loose photo slips out and falls to the floor.
I bend down to pick it up, but Treasure is already there, her pregnant belly pressing against my arm as she reaches for it.
My father kneels down beside us, his voice breaking as he gathers up the scattered photographs.
"These are memories," he says softly, his eyes scanning each image carefully.
He points to one of the photos, "This was taken on the day you were born."
I look at the picture closely, seeing my mother lying in a hospital bed wearing a thin gown that barely covers her body.
She's holding me in her arms, a look of exhaustion and joy on her face.
I sit back down in the chair, holding the photo carefully in my hands.
The desk lamp casts a warm glow over the image, illuminating my mother's tired smile.
I trace the edges of the photo with my finger, feeling the worn corners and creases that have formed over time.
When Treasure shifts in her seat beside me, her pregnant belly pressing against my arm, I feel a sense of connection to this moment in time.
My father watches me silently, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and longing.
As I return the photo to its place in the album, he nods softly, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"We'll make new memories together," I say, feeling the weight of the past lift slightly from my shoulders.
I sit back in the chair, closing the album carefully.
Treasure's hand rests on my arm, her touch warm and comforting.
My fingers linger on the worn leather cover, reluctant to let go of these newfound memories.
"I'll come back soon," I promise my father, "and we'll look through the rest of these together."
His eyes fill with tears, and he reaches across his desk to squeeze my shoulder.
The pressure of his grip is firm but gentle, conveying a mix of love and longing.
Treasure helps me stand, her pregnant belly brushing against the edge of the desk as we prepare to leave.
I sit in my biological father's study, watching as he dries his eyes with a wrinkled handkerchief.
The soft fabric brushes against his cheeks, leaving behind a faint trail of moisture.
As he tucks the handkerchief back into his pocket, his voice cracks with emotion.
"Let's start fresh," he says, his words laced with hope and uncertainty.
"We can make new memories together."
Treasure shifts in her seat beside me, her pregnant belly pressing against the edge of the desk as she leans forward.
Her eyes sparkle with excitement, and a small smile plays on her lips.
My father's own smile grows wider as he pulls out a small calendar from his desk drawer.
The pages rustle softly as he flips through them, searching for the right date.
Finally, he stops at a page filled with scribbled notes and appointments.
With trembling fingers, he marks next Sunday's date with a red pen.
"There," he says, his voice filled with determination.
"Next Sunday. I'll cook dinner here at my house. You and Treasure can come over. We'll have a family dinner."
I nod slowly, still trying to process everything that has happened.
The weight of my newfound heritage settles heavily upon me, but there is also a sense of relief and closure. "I'd like that," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
My father's face lights up with joy, and he reaches across the desk to squeeze my hand.
His touch is warm and comforting, filling me with a sense of belonging that I have never known before.
As we stand to leave, Treasure places her hand on my arm once more.
Her touch is gentle but reassuring, reminding me that I am not alone in this journey of self-discovery.
I sit in my biological father's study, gripping the edge of his wooden desk tightly.
The smooth surface feels cool beneath my fingertips as I gather the courage to share our news with him.
Treasure's hand rests on my arm, her touch warm and comforting.
She is dressed in a flowery sundress that accentuates her pregnant belly, and her hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail.
I can feel her eyes on me, encouraging me to speak.
Finally, I take a deep breath and look up at my father's concerned face.
"We have something to tell you," I say, my voice trembling slightly.
My father's eyes widen with anticipation as he leans forward in his chair.
His glasses slip down his nose slightly, and he pushes them back into place with a gentle nudge of his finger. "What is it?" he asks, his voice filled with curiosity.
I take another deep breath before speaking again.
"Treasure is pregnant," I say, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness wash over me.
My father's eyes widen even further as he processes this news.
"Pregnant?" he repeats, his voice filled with disbelief.
I nod slowly, feeling a sense of pride and joy wash over me.
"Yes," I say, my voice filled with emotion.
"We're having twins."
The room falls silent for a moment as my father absorbs this revelation.
His face is filled with shock and amazement, and tears begin to form behind his glasses.
He looks at me with a mix of love and disbelief, as if he cannot fully comprehend what I have just told him. "Twins?" he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own breathing.
I nod again, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation wash over me once more.
"Yes," I say, my voice filled with emotion.
"We're going to be parents."
My father reaches across the desk with trembling hands, his fingers brushing against mine as he searches for connection.
I watch as he slowly rises from his leather chair, his glasses catching the light of the desk lamp.
Treasure squeezes my hand tightly as my father walks around the desk, his steps unsteady and uncertain.
His arms open wide, and I can see them trembling slightly as he pulls us both into a tight embrace.
I feel his tears wet my shoulder as he holds us close, his body shaking with quiet sobs.
Treasure's pregnant belly presses between us, a reminder of the new life growing within her.
As we stand there, I can feel the weight of my father's emotions bearing down upon me.
His arms are strong and comforting, and I allow myself to be enveloped by his embrace.
Finally, he pulls away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.
His glasses are fogged with tears, and he removes them to wipe them clean with a wrinkled handkerchief.
"Let's celebrate," he says, his voice filled with excitement.
"There's a wonderful Italian restaurant downtown. It's my favorite."
Treasure squeezes my hand once more, her touch urging me to accept his invitation.
I nod slowly, still trying to process the events of the evening.
My father grabs his keys from the desk drawer, his hands shaking as he turns to face us.
"Follow me," he says, his voice filled with anticipation.
"We'll take my car."
Treasure smiles warmly, her eyes meeting mine with a silent agreement.
"That sounds perfect," she says, her voice gentle and reassuring.
My father beams, the joy in his expression unmistakable as he gestures toward the door.
We walk together, the three of us, down the creaky porch steps and into the dark driveway.
My father's keys jingle nervously in his hand as he leads the way.
The sound echoes through the night air, mingling with the distant chirping of crickets in the bushes.
Treasure holds tightly to my arm, her pregnant belly making each step careful and deliberate.
Her hand is warm against my skin, a comforting presence in this moment of uncertainty.
As we approach the car, I can see the silver Mercedes parked behind our Honda Pilot.
The moon casts a soft glow over the vehicle, illuminating its sleek lines and polished surface.
My father stops beside the car, his eyes meeting mine with a question.
"Would you like to take separate cars?" he asks, his voice tinged with uncertainty.
I hesitate for a moment, considering his words.
The night air is cool against my skin, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and fresh cut grass. The yellow porch light casts long shadows across the concrete driveway, creating an eerie yet intimate atmosphere.
Crickets chirp in the bushes, their melodic sounds filling the silence between us.
I look at Treasure, her eyes meeting mine with a silent understanding.
Finally, I turn back to my father, a small smile forming on my lips.
"That's not necessary," I say softly, feeling a sense of connection wash over me.
My father's face lights up with relief and joy, his eyes shining brightly in the dim light.
"Good," he replies, his voice steadying as he opens the car door.
Treasure leans closer to me, whispering softly, "I think this is the start of something beautiful."
I nod, feeling the warmth of her words settle in my heart as we climb into the car together.
We sit in the backseat, Treasure's pregnant belly pressing against the seatbelt as my father slides into the driver's seat.
The engine purrs to life, and he carefully backs out of the driveway.
As we make our way downtown, the streetlights casting a rhythmic glow over our faces, he turns to us with a smile.
"So, what kind of food do you like?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.
Treasure speaks up first, her voice filled with enthusiasm.
"I've been craving Italian lately," she admits, her hand resting on her swollen belly.
My father's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, a knowing glint in his gaze.
"Pregnancy cravings are the best," he says with a chuckle.
I can't help but smile at his words, remembering the countless nights I spent driving around town with Treasure, searching for whatever peculiar food her body desired. The car glides smoothly through the quiet evening streets, passing by rows of quaint houses and bustling restaurants.
The sound of laughter and music drifts from the open windows of bars and clubs, mingling with the hum of the engine.
My father continues to chat with us, sharing stories about my mother's pregnancy cravings when she was carrying me.
He tells us about how she would wake him up in the middle of the night demanding ice cream and pickles.
Treasure giggles at the thought, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
"I can relate," she says softly, her hand rubbing gently over her belly.
My father nods knowingly, his eyes meeting mine once more in the rearview mirror.
"Mothers-to-be have their own special needs," he says with a warm smile.
"I know just the place," he says, his voice filled with excitement.
"It's called Luigi's. They have the best Italian food in town."
Treasure's face lights up at the suggestion, her lips curving into a bright smile.
"That sounds perfect," she says, her voice filled with anticipation.
As we continue driving, my father points out various landmarks and shares stories about his life in this city.
The streets become more familiar as we approach the downtown area, and I can't help but feel a sense of nostalgia wash over me.
Finally, we arrive at a small Italian restaurant tucked away on a quiet street corner.
The red awning above the door reads "Luigi's" in elegant golden letters.
My father parks the car and turns off the engine, his eyes meeting mine once more in the rearview mirror.
"This is where I proposed to your mother thirty years ago," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.
I swallow hard, feeling my throat tighten with a mix of sadness and joy.
I remember coming here for our first anniversary dinner with Treasure, but I never knew it held such significance for my parents. My father steps out of the car and opens the door for Treasure, offering her his hand to help her out.
I follow behind them, my heart pounding softly in my chest as we walk toward the restaurant.
The smell of freshly baked bread and simmering sauces wafts through the air, making my stomach growl with anticipation.
My father opens the door for us, and we step inside, greeted by the warm glow of candlelit tables and the soft hum of conversation.
We are led to a cozy table by the window, where my father takes a seat across from us.
He looks around at the familiar surroundings, a small smile forming on his lips.
"Your mother loved their tiramisu," he says softly, his eyes meeting mine once more.
Treasure reaches across the table, her hand gently touching his.
"She sounds like an incredible woman," she says, her voice filled with warmth.
My father nods, a hint of sadness mingling with his smile. "She was, and I see so much of her in you."
We sit in silence for a moment, the only sound being the clinking of glasses and the distant chatter of other patrons.
Then Treasure turns to me, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Hey," she says softly, her hand reaching out to grab mine.
I look at her, my heart pounding softly in my chest.
"Yeah?" "Can I ask you something?"
Her voice is filled with anticipation.
"Of course," I reply, my hand tightening around hers.
She pulls my hand toward her belly, pressing it firmly against the soft skin.
"Feel this," she whispers, her eyes wide with excitement.
I feel a flutter under my palm, a gentle movement that sends shivers down my spine.
My father leans forward, his eyes meeting mine across the table.
His glasses reflect the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow over his face. "What is it?" he asks softly, his voice filled with curiosity.
Treasure smiles at him, her eyes shining brightly.
"The baby is moving," she replies, her voice filled with joy.
My father's face lights up with excitement as he watches us experience this intimate moment together.
I feel another movement under my palm, stronger this time.
Tears well up in my eyes as I realize that our baby is kicking for the first time.
Treasure guides my hand to another spot on her belly, where the baby kicks once more.
This time it's even stronger, and I can feel the small foot pushing against my palm.
"Wow," I breathe, my eyes meeting Treasure's across the table.
She smiles at me, her hand gently guiding mine across her belly to follow the movement of our baby.
The candlelight flickers softly on the table, casting a warm glow over our faces.
I watch in awe as the subtle ripples appear under her dress, a testament to the life growing inside her.
My father leans forward, his eyes wide with fascination.
He watches as the small movements continue beneath my palm, his face filled with wonder.
Treasure's eyes meet mine once more, and I can see the pure joy shining within them.
I can't resist moving closer to her, my heart pounding softly in my chest.
I lean in and press a soft kiss against her lips, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine.
"Our little one is quite active," I whisper against her lips, my voice filled with love and wonder.
"Yes," she whispers back, her eyes glistening, "and I can't wait for us to meet them."
We sit there for a moment, our hands still resting on her belly, feeling the gentle movements of our baby.
The candlelight casts a warm glow over our faces, illuminating the joy and love that fills the air.
Finally, Treasure pulls away, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"We should start planning the nursery this weekend," she says softly, her voice filled with anticipation.
My father nods in agreement, his eyes meeting mine across the table.
"I'd be happy to help," he says, his voice filled with enthusiasm.
"I have your old wooden crib stored in my attic. It's still in great condition."
Treasure's face lights up at the suggestion, her lips curving into a bright smile.
"That would be wonderful," she replies, her voice filled with gratitude.
My father smiles back at her, his eyes shining with warmth.
"I'll bring it over this weekend," he promises.
Treasure nods, her hand gently rubbing her belly once more.
"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with appreciation.
I watch as my father leans back in his chair, a small smile forming on his lips.
He looks content and happy, surrounded by the people he loves. I feel a sense of peace wash over me as I gaze at them both, knowing that we are finally building a family together.
The waiter arrives at our table, interrupting the momentary silence that has fallen between us.
He takes our orders and leaves once more, leaving us alone to continue our conversation.
My father leans forward once again, his eyes meeting mine across the table.
"So," he begins softly, "when is the baby due?"
Treasure's smile falters slightly as she hesitates before answering.
"We're expecting twins," she admits quietly, her voice barely audible above the hum of conversation surrounding us.
My father's eyes widen in surprise as he processes this revelation.
He grips the edge of the table tightly, his knuckles turning white under the pressure of his grip.
"Twins," he repeats, his voice a mix of awe and disbelief.
"Yes," Treasure replies, her voice steady despite the shock that has settled over us.
"We found out during the ultrasound last week."
My father sits back in his chair, his eyes still wide with surprise.
He takes a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he processes this new information.
"Twins," he repeats once more, his voice filled with wonder.
Treasure leans closer to me, her vanilla perfume mixing with the scent of garlic bread wafting from the kitchen.
Her warm breath tickles my ear as she whispers softly, "I love our little family growing."
The candlelight flickers across our faces, casting a warm glow over our features.
I sit there with Treasure and my biological father, leaning closer over the candlelit table.
After their excited reactions about the twins, I clear my throat nervously.
"I think we should keep this news private for now," I suggest, my voice barely above a whisper.
Treasure's hand tightens on mine, her eyes meeting mine with a hint of confusion.
My father's smile falters slightly, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.
"Why?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with curiosity.
I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words to explain my reasoning.
"I just want to keep this special moment between us three," I admit, my voice filled with sincerity.
Treasure shifts uncomfortably in her chair, her belly touching the edge of the table.
She remains silent, her eyes fixed on mine as I continue.
"I know it's hard to keep this secret from everyone else," I say gently, "but I want to savor this moment just for us."
The waiter arrives with our food, breaking the tension that has settled over our table.
We sit there, our plates steaming with delicious aromas, but none of us make a move to eat.
Treasure squeezes my hand under the table, her eyes pleading with me to understand.
My father reaches for his water glass, his eyes never leaving mine.
He raises it slowly, his lips parting to speak.
But instead of words, he nods slowly, his eyes filled with understanding.
Treasure lifts her sparkling water, her other hand resting protectively on her belly.
The candlelight catches our glasses as we bring them together, creating a soft chime that echoes through the restaurant.
We sit there, our water glasses raised in the dim candlelight.
Treasure's eyes meet mine, filled with a deep understanding that transcends words.
My father's hand trembles slightly as he holds his glass, tears glistening behind his glasses.
The sound of our glasses touching is like a symphony of love and connection.
After a moment, we take a sip, the cool water soothing our parched throats.
Treasure places her empty glass down, her hand returning to rest on her belly.
A gentle smile plays on her lips as she looks at us both.
The silence between us is intimate and sacred, filled with the weight of our precious secret.
We sit there, savoring the moment, when a deafening crash echoes from the kitchen.
The sound reverberates through the restaurant, causing the overhead lights to flicker ominously.
Diners turn their heads toward the source of the noise, their conversations hushed in confusion.
Treasure grabs my arm, her pregnant belly pressing against the edge of the table as she steadies herself.
My father rises halfway from his chair, his water glass wobbling precariously on the tablecloth.
I instinctively move closer to Treasure, my heart pounding in my chest as we wait to see what's happening.
Screams erupt from the kitchen doorway, followed by the acrid smell of smoke seeping under the swinging doors.
I sit frozen, my eyes fixed on the smoke billowing from the kitchen, while Treasure's grip on my arm tightens.
When she pulls me closer, her pregnant belly presses against my side.
Her warm breath fans against my ear as she whispers, "Stay with me."
The sweet scent of her vanilla perfume envelops me, grounding me amidst the chaos.
My father rises fully from his chair, knocking over his water glass in the process.
The sound of shattering glass punctuates the air as other diners rush toward the exits, their panicked screams echoing through the restaurant.
But I remain still, anchored by Treasure's touch and gentle words.
The smoke thickens, its acrid tendrils curling around us like a suffocating embrace.
I grip Treasure's arm firmly, helping her up from our table.
Her pregnant belly protrudes under her dress, and I'm acutely aware of the precious life growing within her.
As we rise, the smoke swirls around us, obscuring our view.
I guide Treasure carefully, my hand on the small of her back as she stumbles slightly on her heels.
The sounds of panic intensify around us—shouts, footsteps, and the distant wail of sirens.
My father moves ahead, his glasses reflecting the emergency lights now flashing overhead.
The glow casts an eerie light on his face, illuminating his determination to lead us to safety.
We follow closely behind him, navigating through the chaos.
Treasure's steps are cautious, her hand clutching mine tightly as we make our way through the smoke-filled dining room. The air is thick with the smell of burning wood and grease.
It stings my eyes, causing them to water profusely.
But I keep my gaze fixed on Treasure, ensuring she doesn't stumble or get separated from me in the mayhem.
Other diners rush past us, their panicked faces blurred by the smoke.
Some cough violently, covering their mouths with napkins or their hands.
The sounds of breaking glass and splintering wood echo through the restaurant as people desperately seek escape routes.
My heart pounds in my chest, fear gripping me tightly as I watch Treasure navigate through the smoke.
But I keep my voice steady and calm for her sake.
"Stay close," I whisper urgently in her ear as we move forward.
The exit sign glows like a beacon in the distance, guiding us through the thickening smoke.
I grip the emergency exit handle tightly, my palm slick with sweat.
The metal feels cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat building inside the restaurant.
Treasure leans heavily against me, her pregnant belly making every step a challenge.
The smoke swirls around us, obscuring our view of the door.
I strain to see through the haze, my eyes watering from the acrid fumes.
My biological father stands outside, his face pressed against the glass window of the door.
He motions for us to hurry, his gestures urgent and desperate.
When I finally push against the metal bar, it sticks momentarily, refusing to budge.
Panic surges through me as I apply more pressure, my muscles straining against the resistance.
Finally, with a loud clang, the door gives way, swinging open into the night air. The rush of cool air hits my face like a slap, jolting me back to reality.
I guide Treasure through the narrow doorframe, supporting her weight as she stumbles slightly on the threshold.
Her vanilla perfume mingles with the smell of smoke clinging to our clothes as we emerge into the dark alley behind Luigi's.
We stand there, the three of us—Treasure, my biological father, and me—catching our breaths in the darkness.
The sounds of sirens grow louder, echoing off the walls of the surrounding buildings.
Smoke billows out from the back door we just escaped through, curling into the night air like a living entity.
Other evacuees huddle together nearby, their faces illuminated only by the faint glow of emergency lights.
The smell of smoke and char hangs heavy over us, mingling with the distant scent of rain.
Suddenly, a figure emerges from the haze of smoke.
It's a firefighter, clad in full gear with a helmet obscuring his face.
His boots scrape against the pavement as he moves toward us, carrying something in his arms.
As he draws closer, I see that it's gray emergency blankets.
He approaches Treasure first, gently draping one of the blankets over her shoulders. She shivers slightly against me, her pregnant belly pressing against my side.
I can feel her heart racing beneath her dress as she clutches the blanket tightly around her.
The firefighter then turns to me and my biological father, offering us each a blanket as well.
We take them gratefully, wrapping them around ourselves to ward off the chill of the night air.
The firefighter gestures toward a lit parking lot in the distance where other diners are gathering.
His voice is muffled by his helmet as he speaks.
"Please head over there. We'll get you checked out."
I nod in understanding, my throat still raw from inhaling smoke.
Treasure's legs tremble slightly as we begin to move toward the parking lot.
I hold her arm firmly, supporting her weight as we walk.
My biological father moves ahead of us, clearing a path through the scattered groups of people.
As we make our way from the dark alley toward the brightly lit parking lot, I can see the chaos unfolding before us.
Emergency vehicles line the street, their flashing lights casting an eerie glow over the scene.
People in various states of disarray huddle together, some coughing and others crying.
The smell of smoke hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the distant scent of rain.
Treasure stumbles slightly on the uneven pavement, and I quickly steady her.
Her pregnant belly makes every step a challenge, and I can feel her fatigue radiating from her body.
As she regains her balance, I adjust the emergency blanket around her shoulders to keep her warm.
The vanilla perfume she always wears mingles with the smell of smoke clinging to our clothes. "I'm okay," she assures me, though I can hear the strain in her voice.
But I notice that her hands are shaking slightly as she clutches the blanket around herself.
And with each step, her breathing becomes more labored.
I hold her arm firmly as we cross the uneven pavement toward the bright lights of the parking lot.
The emergency blanket slips off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of her pale skin beneath.
She leans heavily against me, her pregnant belly making every step a struggle.
As we walk, I can feel her trembling against me, her body weakened by the ordeal.
Suddenly, Treasure stops in her tracks, gasping softly.
Her hand instinctively goes to her stomach, and my heart skips a beat.
"Treasure? Are you okay?"
I ask, my voice filled with concern.
She nods, though I can see the pain in her eyes.
"I think it's just Braxton Hicks," she whispers, her breath coming in short bursts.
"But they feel so strong."
My biological father turns around at the sound of our voices, his glasses reflecting the flashing emergency lights.
He rushes back to us, taking Treasure's other arm to help support her weight.
We stand there, the three of us, in the middle of the parking lot.
Treasure's legs tremble as she fights through another contraction.
Her breathing is shallow, and I can feel her heart racing beneath her dress.
Suddenly, a paramedic in a blue uniform rushes toward us, pushing a wheelchair.
My biological father waves him over, relief flooding his face.
The paramedic stops in front of us, his eyes assessing Treasure's condition.
"Ma'am, we need to get you checked out," he says gently, his voice calm and reassuring.
Treasure shakes her head, her voice trembling.
"I'm fine. I can walk."
But her legs betray her, trembling beneath the weight of her pregnant body.
She clutches my arm tightly, her knuckles white with tension.
The emergency blanket slips further down her shoulders, revealing a glimpse of her pale skin beneath. The paramedic nods understandingly but doesn't back down.
"We'll get you comfortable in the ambulance," he assures her.
I can see the fear in Treasure's eyes as she looks at me for reassurance.
I squeeze her hand gently, trying to convey my own confidence in the paramedics' abilities.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper softly.
"You're going to be just fine."
She nods slowly, though I can see the doubt lingering behind her eyes.
The paramedic moves closer, his hands steady as he helps Treasure into the wheelchair.
She winces slightly as she sits down, adjusting the emergency blanket around her shoulders once more.
The paramedic kneels beside her, his voice calm and soothing as he speaks.
"Can you tell me your name and how far along you are?"
Treasure takes a deep breath, her voice steady as she answers, "I'm Treasure, and I'm thirty-six weeks."
The paramedic nods, jotting down some notes on his clipboard.
"Okay, Treasure. We're going to get you checked out," he says reassuringly.
I walk beside the wheelchair, holding Treasure's hand tightly as the paramedic navigates us through the crowded parking lot.
My biological father follows closely behind, his own emergency blanket dragging on the ground.
As we make our way toward the ambulance, I can see the flashing lights casting an eerie glow over the scene.
People in various states of disarray huddle together, some coughing and others crying.
The smell of smoke still hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the distant scent of rain.
Suddenly, Treasure winces again, her grip on my hand tightening painfully.
The paramedic notices her discomfort and quickens our pace.
"We're almost there," he assures her.
But I can see the fear in her eyes, even as she tries to hide it behind a brave smile. As we approach the ambulance, I can feel Treasure's trembling fingers against mine.
The emergency blanket slips further down her shoulders, revealing a glimpse of her pale skin beneath.
I stand at the open doors of the ambulance, watching as the paramedic helps Treasure onto the stretcher.
Her pregnant belly makes it difficult for her to climb up, so I support her back while she grips the metal rails.
As she settles into place, she winces in pain, her hand tightening around mine.
"It's going to be okay," I whisper softly, though my voice shakes slightly with worry.
The emergency blanket falls from her shoulders as she lies down on the thin mattress.
My biological father stands behind me, his eyes fixed anxiously on Treasure's face.
The paramedic fastens safety straps across her legs, securing her in place.
I stand at the ambulance's back doors, the paramedic motioning me inside.
Treasure lies on the stretcher, her pregnant belly rising beneath the thin sheet as she breathes heavily.
When I climb up and settle on the metal bench beside her, my shoes clang against the floor.
She grips my hand tightly during another contraction, her wedding ring pressing into my palm.
My biological father's worried face disappears as the doors swing shut.
I sit on the metal bench, my fingers intertwined with Treasure's as she lies on the stretcher.
When another contraction hits, she squeezes my hand until my fingers hurt.
Her wedding ring presses into my skin, and I try to keep my voice steady as I whisper words of encouragement.
The paramedic monitors her vitals from the front of the ambulance, his eyes flicking between her and the equipment beeping around us.
Outside, the sirens wail as we speed through traffic, weaving in and out of cars.
The ambulance swerves sharply to avoid a collision, throwing me off balance.
I grab onto the handrail to steady myself, my heart racing with fear.
Treasure's eyes lock onto mine through her pain, pleading for reassurance.
I lean closer to her face, our breath mingling as I promise we'll get through this together.
I grip Treasure's hand as the ambulance speeds down the road, my eyes fixed on her pained expression.
The paramedic checks her vitals from the front of the ambulance, his voice calm and reassuring as he speaks to her.
Another contraction hits, and she squeezes my fingers until they hurt.
I try to keep my voice steady as I whisper words of encouragement, but my heart races with fear.
Suddenly, Treasure cries out sharply, her grip on my hand tightening even more.
Panic rises in my chest as I look at the paramedic, but he doesn't seem alarmed.
He continues to monitor her vitals, his expression focused.
I turn toward the front of the ambulance, where the driver navigates through heavy traffic.
The sirens wail around us, mingling with the sounds of honking cars and screeching tires.
My voice cracks with fear as I shout out to the driver, "How much longer until we reach the hospital?"
The driver glances back at me briefly before returning his focus to the road ahead.
I grip the ambulance handrail as we screech to a stop at the emergency entrance.
The back doors burst open, revealing a team of nurses in blue scrubs surrounding the stretcher.
When they begin wheeling Treasure toward the sliding glass doors, her hand slips from mine as she cries out in pain.
The paramedic rattles off her vitals while I stumble after them, trying to keep up with the stretcher's rapid pace.
"Wait!" Treasure gasps, reaching for me as the nurses push her inside.
I catch her hand, breathless, and she whispers urgently, "It's not just the baby—there's something wrong."
The paramedic pauses, his eyes narrowing with concern as he asks, "What do you mean, something wrong?"
I run beside the stretcher, my fingers locked with Treasure's as we rush through the emergency room doors.
The nurses wheel her down the bright hallways, their footsteps echoing off the sterile walls.
Treasure's grip on my hand tightens as she cries out in pain, her fingers digging into my palm.
Her wedding ring presses into my skin, a constant reminder of our bond.
The medical team speaks in urgent tones around us, discussing her condition and the baby's well-being.
We race past other patients in the emergency room, their worried faces blurring together as we pass.
Nurses and doctors move swiftly, their expressions focused on the crisis at hand.
The stretcher turns a corner, and we enter a long corridor lined with examination rooms.
The nurses push Treasure toward one of the rooms, and I struggle to keep up, desperate not to let go of her hand.
"Sir, you need to wait outside," one of the nurses says firmly, but I shake my head.
"I promised her I wouldn't leave," I explain, my voice filled with determination.
The nurse looks at me sympathetically but insists, "I understand, but you can't be in here right now."
I refuse to let go of Treasure's hand as they wheel her into the examination room.
Her frightened eyes lock onto mine, pleading for me not to abandon her. The nurses position the stretcher next to a hospital bed, and doctors gather around her with concern etched on their faces.
They begin examining Treasure while I stand beside her, our joined hands trembling with fear.
The doctors speak in hushed tones about her condition and possible complications.
As they work, Treasure's grip loosens, and her eyes close, leaving me alone with the weight of uncertainty.
I stand there, frozen with worry, as the doctors examine Treasure and check the heartbeats of our babies.
The lead physician studies her charts intently, his brow furrowed with concentration.
Finally, he looks up from the charts with a relieved smile on his face.
My knees almost buckle as he begins to speak.
"The contractions were brought on by smoke inhalation and stress, but thankfully, both Treasure and the twins are stable. We want to monitor her overnight for precaution, but you should be able to go home tomorrow morning."
Treasure's grip on my hand loosens slightly as she processes this good news.
Tears of relief fill her eyes as she looks at me, her voice barely a whisper.
"Thank God."
I stand beside Treasure's hospital bed, watching her exhausted face in the dim lighting.
The only sound is the steady beep of the monitors surrounding us.
When she shifts uncomfortably against the stiff sheets, I reach over and adjust her pillow, smoothing back her hair.
Even after a shower, it still smells faintly of smoke from Luigi's.
Her hand rests protectively over our babies while she tries to fight off sleep.
"Is he still out there?" she asks softly, referring to my biological father waiting in the lobby.
I lean down close to her face, my lips brushing against her warm forehead as I whisper, "Everything will be okay."
Treasure's eyes search mine, filled with a mix of fear and hope.
"But what if he tries to take them from us?" she murmurs, her voice trembling.
I squeeze her hand reassuringly, promising, "He won't get the chance; I won't let him."
She closes her eyes, fighting against the exhaustion that threatens to consume her.
I sit down in the chair beside her bed, watching as she finally surrenders to sleep.
The steady beeping of the monitors is the only sound in the room, a constant reminder of our fragile situation.
I reach out and gently place my hand on her belly, feeling the gentle movements of our babies inside.
Her wedding ring glints softly in the dim light, a symbol of our love and commitment to each other.
Suddenly, Treasure's voice cuts through the silence, her words barely audible over the beeping of the monitors.
"I'm scared," she whispers, her voice trembling with fear.
I lean closer to her face, our lips almost touching as I whisper back, "Don't be. I'll protect you and our family."
Her hand grips my arm tightly, her nails digging into my skin as she tries to find comfort in my words.
"Do you think he'll really try to come after us?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, my jaw set with determination. "He might, but I've already contacted a lawyer; we're ready for whatever he throws our way."
Treasure's eyes soften slightly, a hint of relief breaking through her fear.
I sit there, holding her hand and watching over her as she drifts back into sleep.
The sound of footsteps echoes down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second.
I turn my head to see a figure standing in the doorway, casting a long shadow across the floor.
It's my biological father, his glasses reflecting the dim light from the hallway.
He steps inside, his movements quiet as he tries not to disturb Treasure's sleep.
His voice is barely audible as he speaks, "It's time for me to go."
I glance at him, noticing the genuine concern etched on his face.
"Thank you for being here," I whisper back, my voice filled with gratitude.
He nods silently and touches my shoulder gently before turning to leave.
As he reaches the door, he pauses and looks back at me, his expression conflicted.
"I never wanted to hurt you or your family," he says quietly, his voice tinged with regret.
I meet his gaze, my own emotions a storm beneath the surface. "Then prove it by staying away," I reply firmly, my resolve unyielding.
He nods once and exits the room, leaving me standing by the door.
My hand rests on the cold metal handle, hesitating for a moment before I close the door softly behind him.
The fluorescent lights in the hallway cast long shadows on the floor before the door clicks shut.
I walk back to Treasure's bedside, my shoes squeaking against the linoleum floor.
She stirs slightly at the sound, but doesn't wake.
Her chest rises and falls steadily beneath the thin hospital blanket.
I settle into the hard plastic chair beside her, taking her warm hand in mine.
The beeping of the monitors fills the darkness as I watch over her and our unborn twins through the night.
I slump in the hard plastic chair beside Treasure's hospital bed, my hand still holding hers.
The steady beeping of the monitors and her soft breathing create a hypnotic rhythm that fills the room.
Despite my exhaustion, I fight to stay alert, determined to keep watch over her and our babies.
But as the minutes tick by, my eyelids grow heavier, my head nodding forward involuntarily.
The dim room feels warmer than before, and my muscles relax against my will.
I try to straighten up, but it's too late.
Treasure's voice breaks through my drowsiness, startling me awake.
"Did he say anything else before he left?" she asks, her eyes still closed but her grip on my hand tightening.
I shake my head, though I know she can't see it. "Only that he regrets everything," I reply softly, feeling the weight of those words settle between us.
She murmurs something in response, her words indistinguishable as she drifts back into sleep.
I sit there, watching her face relax into a peaceful expression.
Her breathing becomes steady once more, and the tension in her body eases.
As I lean forward, my lips brush against her ear.
"He can't hurt us anymore," I whisper softly, my voice barely audible over the hum of the machines.
"I promise to keep you and our babies safe."
I pause, letting the weight of those words sink in.
"You're safe with me," I continue, my voice filled with conviction.
"I'll always protect you."
As I speak, I feel her grip on my hand loosen slightly, her fingers relaxing against mine.
I lean forward in the hard hospital chair to fix Treasure's blanket, which has slipped off her shoulder.
The thin cotton material rustles softly as I carefully pull it up to her chin, making sure not to disturb her sleep or the IV line in her arm.
Her pregnant belly rises and falls with each breath under the pale blue fabric.
When she stirs slightly at my touch, I freeze until her breathing steadies again.
I sit back down and watch her face, which occasionally twitches as she sleeps.
Her lips part slightly, and she whimpers softly.
I lean closer, squeezing her hand gently.
The diamond on her wedding ring presses against my palm.
Her fingers twitch weakly in response to my touch, but her eyes remain closed.
The monitors continue to beep steadily in the background.
I hold onto her hand, even though I'm exhausted.
I want to give her comfort through whatever dreams are disturbing her sleep.
I lean close to her ear, my voice barely audible above the steady monitor beeps.
"Treasure," I whisper softly.
"I'm here."
She stirs again, her eyes fluttering open briefly before closing once more.
Her lips move, and I strain to hear her words.
"Dad..."
The sound of her voice is barely audible, but I catch the word.
I squeeze her hand gently.
"We're safe now," I whisper softly.
"He can't hurt us anymore. I promise to keep you and our babies safe."
Her fingers twitch in response, and she murmurs something else, but I can't make out the words.
I continue speaking softly, hoping my voice will calm her troubled mind.
"We're going to be okay," I tell her, my voice filled with conviction.
"I'll always protect you. We'll raise our children together, and they'll know how much we love them."
Her eyes open again, and this time they stay open, meeting mine with complete vulnerability.
She stares at me for a long moment before speaking in a voice thick with exhaustion.
"I trust you," she whispers, her words barely audible.
Her fingers squeeze mine weakly before loosening as she drifts back to sleep.
The monitors continue their steady beeping, and I watch her face relax once more as she sinks into a deeper slumber.
I sit back, feeling a weight lift from my chest, but then her eyes flutter open again, filled with a sudden urgency.
"There's something I need to tell you," she says, her voice stronger now.
"What is it?" I ask, leaning closer, my heart pounding in anticipation.
"Check the safe," she whispers, her voice filled with urgency.
"At home."
Her eyes close again, and her hand goes limp in mine.
I want to ask her which safe she means, but her steady breathing tells me she's already asleep.
The monitors continue their rhythmic beeping, and I sit back in my chair, my mind racing with possibilities.
What could be hidden in our bedroom safe that's so important?
I glance at her, then back at the door, my mind spinning with questions.
"Do you think it's about the papers we found last month?" I murmur to myself, unsure if she can hear me.
"Or is it something else entirely?"
I sit there, staring at her sleeping form, when a shadow falls across the doorway.
I turn to see Alex standing there, his work boots leaving muddy prints on the floor.
He's one of my closest friends and a fellow firefighter.
"Hey, man," he says softly, nodding toward Treasure.
"How is she?"
"She's stable," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper.
"But she just woke up and told me to check the safe at home. She said it was important."
Alex furrows his brow.
"What safe?"
I shake my head.
"I'm not sure. We have two safes in the house. One in the bedroom and one in the office."
Alex nods thoughtfully.
"Let me take care of it. You stay here with Treasure."
I hesitate for a moment, but then nod gratefully.
"Thanks, man."
Alex turns to leave, but pauses in the doorway.
"You got the combination written down somewhere?"
I pull out my wallet and find a small piece of paper tucked away in a hidden compartment.
I hand it to him, my hands shaking slightly as I do so.
"Be careful," I say quietly.
"If it's something important, we don't want anyone else getting their hands on it."
Alex nods solemnly and tucks the paper into his pocket.
"Don't worry," he says reassuringly.
"I'll be careful."
I watch as he disappears down the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the walls. I turn back to Treasure, who is still fast asleep.
I grip her hand tightly, hoping that whatever is in that safe will give us some answers.
The machines continue to beep steadily around us, and I sit there waiting anxiously for Alex to call with any news.
As I wait, I can't help but wonder what could be so important that Treasure would wake up from a coma just to tell me about it.
Is it something about our future?
Or perhaps something from our past?
Whatever it is, I know that Alex will find it for me.
He's always been someone I can count on, and now more than ever, I need him to come through for me.
The minutes tick by slowly as I wait for Alex to call with any news.
Treasure stirs occasionally in her sleep, her fingers twitching against mine as she drifts through her dreams. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, my phone buzzes with an incoming call from Alex's number.
I grip the phone tightly in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest as I answer.
"Hello?"
I say quietly, not wanting to wake Treasure.
"Hey, man," Alex says, his voice shaking slightly on the other end of the line.
"I found something."
"What is it?"
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm in your bedroom," he replies, his voice low and serious.
"I used the combination you gave me and opened the safe. There's a lot of stuff in here."
My heart races as I listen to him rummage through the contents of the safe.
"What kind of stuff?" I ask, my voice filled with anticipation.
"There are birth certificates," he says, his voice filled with confusion.
"And adoption papers. And some sealed letters addressed to your biological father."
My hand shakes as I grip Treasure's arm.
She stirs slightly at my touch but remains asleep.
"Can you open one of the letters?" I ask, desperate to know what they say. "I don't know if I should," he replies hesitantly.
"But I think you need to see this for yourself."
"Okay," I say quietly, my mind racing with possibilities.
"What else is in there?"
"There's a stack of documents," he says, his voice filled with confusion.
"They look like some kind of contract. And there's a folder labeled 'Confidential.'"
"Open it," I say urgently, desperate for any information that might help us understand what's going on.
"Okay," he replies slowly, his voice filled with hesitation.
As he opens the folder, I hear a rustling sound over the phone line.
Then there's a long pause before he speaks again.
"Holy shit," he says finally, his voice filled with shock.
"What is it?" I ask anxiously, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Okay, I'm looking at the contract," he says, his voice filled with confusion.
"It looks like some kind of agreement between your mom and your biological father."
I grip my phone tightly in my hand, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for him to continue.
"And what does it say?"
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"It says that your biological father agreed to pay your mom a certain amount of money every month," Alex replies, his voice filled with emotion.
"In exchange for keeping the fact that he's your father a secret."
I feel a lump form in my throat as I listen to his words.
"So, he knew about me all along?"
I ask, my voice shaking with anger.
"Yes," Alex replies, his voice filled with sadness.
"And there's more."
"What is it?"
I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.
"There's a DNA test result here," he says quietly.
"It says that you have twin siblings." My legs go weak as I hear his words.
Twin siblings?
How can that be?
I feel like the room is spinning around me as I try to process this new information.
Treasure stirs again beside me, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
"Do you want me to bring all this stuff to the hospital?" Alex asks, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.
"No, just keep it safe for now," I reply, trying to gather my thoughts.
"But we need to figure out what to do next."
"I agree," he says, his voice filled with determination.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, man."
I nod, even though he can't see me.
"Thanks, Alex. I owe you one."
"No problem, buddy," he replies.
"Just take care of Treasure."
I hang up the phone and sit there for a moment, trying to process everything that just happened.
Twin siblings?
A biological father who's been keeping secrets all these years?
It's too much to take in.
I look over at Treasure, who is still fast asleep beside me.
She has no idea what's going on, and I don't want to wake her up until I have some answers.
I sit there for a long time, lost in my thoughts, when suddenly the intercom crackles to life.
"Attention all visitors," a voice says over the loudspeaker.
"We have a special guest arriving in room 304. Please clear the hallway for his arrival."
My hand shakes as I grip Treasure's arm.
Room 304 is right next door to us.
Could it be him?
The mysterious stranger who has been visiting Treasure every day? I look over at the doorway, watching as footsteps approach our room.
The steady beep of the monitor grows louder in my ears as I wait for him to appear.
And then, suddenly, he's standing there in the threshold, looking at me with eyes that are identical to my own.
I feel like I'm staring into a mirror as I take in his features.
He's taller than me by a few inches, but otherwise we look exactly alike - same green eyes, same dark hair, same strong jawline.
He stands there for a long moment, studying me just as intently as I'm studying him.
"Hello, brother," he finally says, his voice a perfect echo of my own.
I sit frozen in place as he walks into the room, his footsteps echoing off the tile floor.
"I've wanted to meet you for a long time," he says, his voice steady despite the emotion in his eyes.
"But I never knew where to find you."
I watch him as he approaches the foot of Treasure's bed, his gaze fixed on her sleeping form.
He reaches out and gently touches the metal rail, his fingers brushing against hers.
"She's beautiful," he says softly, his voice filled with longing.
"I can see why you love her so much."
I feel a lump form in my throat as I watch him gazing at Treasure with such tenderness.
It's hard to believe that this stranger is my twin brother - someone who shares my blood and my DNA. I look over at Treasure, who is still fast asleep beside me.
She has no idea that our lives are about to change forever.
I turn back to my brother, who is watching me with a mix of curiosity and sadness in his eyes.
"What do you want from us?"
I ask him, my voice shaking slightly as I speak.
He looks at me for a long moment before answering.
"I just want to get to know you," he says quietly.
"And maybe help you understand who we are."
I feel like I'm trapped in a dream as I listen to his words.
This can't be real, can it?
But deep down inside, I know that it's true.
I nod slowly, realizing that the truth has finally found its way to us.
I sit there in stunned silence as my twin brother pulls out a worn envelope from his jacket pocket.
He looks at me with a mix of sadness and determination in his eyes as he holds it up.
"I found this letter in our father's study last month," he explains, his voice trembling slightly.
"It was hidden away in a drawer, almost like he didn't want anyone to find it."
I watch him as he carefully breaks the seal on the envelope and pulls out a stack of yellowed pages.
He unfolds them slowly, revealing lines of familiar handwriting that dance across the page.
Treasure stirs beside us, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
My brother glances over at her for a moment before returning his gaze to the letter in his hands.
"I think it's time we knew the truth," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.
"About who we are and where we come from."
I lean forward in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest as I wait for him to begin reading. The steady beep of the monitor fills the room as he clears his throat and starts to speak.
"Dear children," he reads, his voice trembling slightly as he begins to read our father's words.
"I'm writing this letter to you today because I know that one day you'll find out the truth about our family."
He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just say it straight out - you were separated at birth."
I feel like I've been punched in the gut as I listen to his words.
Separated at birth?
How could that be possible?
I look over at Treasure, who is still fast asleep beside me.
My brother's voice breaks through my thoughts, steady but filled with a quiet intensity.
"Our father had his reasons," he continues, glancing at me with a mixture of empathy and resolve.
"But I think it's time we decide what happens next."
I lean forward in my chair, eager to hear more.
He unfolds the next page, his hands trembling slightly as he holds it up to the dim light of the hospital room.
The words blur together on the page, but he squints to make out our father's familiar handwriting.
Treasure's monitor beeps steadily in the background, a constant reminder of her fragile state.
My brother moves closer to the bedside lamp, angling the page to catch the faint glow of light.
I watch him as he reads, his eyes scanning the lines with a mix of sadness and determination.
I grip Treasure's hand tightly, feeling her soft skin against mine.
My wedding ring presses into her palm as I listen to my brother's voice, steady and strong despite the emotions that swirl beneath.
"Your mother made a difficult choice," he reads, his voice filled with a quiet reverence.
"One that would change all of our lives forever."
I feel a lump form in my throat as I listen to his words, imagining our mother's pain and sacrifice all those years ago.
My brother pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing. "She gave you both up for adoption," he says softly, his voice cracking with emotion.
"It was a decision that tore her apart, but she knew it was the only way to give you both the chance at a better life."
I feel like I'm living in a dream as I listen to his words.
A better life?
How could separating us have been for the best?
I look over at Treasure, who is still fast asleep beside me.
Her chest rises and falls steadily as she breathes, her monitor beeping softly in the background.
My brother glances up at me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know this is hard to hear," he says quietly.
"But I want you to know that our father loved you both very much."
I nod slowly, trying to process everything that he's telling me.
It's all so overwhelming - twin siblings, biological parents who kept secrets from us our whole lives...
He sits there for a moment, his hands shaking as he turns to the next page.
The words are yellowed with age, but his voice rings out clear and strong as he reads on.
Treasure stirs beside me, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
I grip her hand tightly, feeling the softness of her skin against mine.
My brother's voice fills the room, echoing off the walls as he continues to read.
"Our father was a complicated man," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.
"He made mistakes, but he loved us both very much."
I listen intently as he reads on, his words painting a picture of our father that I never could have imagined.
A man who was flawed but loved us deeply.
My brother pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"He wanted to give you both the best life possible," he says quietly.
"And he knew that meant keeping you apart."
I feel like I'm living in a dream as I listen to his words.
Keeping us apart?
How could that have been for the best? My brother glances up at me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know this is hard to hear," he says softly.
"But I want you to know that our father loved you both very much."
I nod slowly, trying to process everything that he's telling me.
It's all so overwhelming - twin siblings, biological parents who kept secrets from us our whole lives...
My brother clears his throat and begins reading again, his voice steady and strong despite the emotions that swirl beneath.
"Our mother was desperate," he reads, his voice filled with a quiet reverence.
"She knew that our father's past would catch up with him eventually, and she didn't want either of you to get hurt."
I lean forward in my chair, eager to hear more.
My brother unfolds the next page, his hands trembling slightly as he holds it up to the dim light of the hospital room. The words blur together on the page, but he squints to make out our father's familiar handwriting.
Treasure's monitor beeps steadily in the background, a constant reminder of her fragile state.
My brother moves closer to the bedside lamp, angling the page to catch the faint glow of light.
I watch him as he reads, his eyes scanning the lines with a mix of sadness and determination.
"So she made a difficult decision," he continues, his voice filled with emotion.
"She chose to protect you both by letting you go."
He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"She knew it would be hard, but she also knew that it was the only way to keep you safe."
I feel like I'm living in a dream as I listen to his words.
Letting us go?
How could that have been for the best?
My brother glances up at me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know this is hard to hear," he says softly.
"But I want you to know that our mother loved you both very much."
I nod slowly, trying to process everything that he's telling me.
It's all so overwhelming - twin siblings, biological parents who kept secrets from us our whole lives...
My brother sits there for a moment, his hands shaking as he turns to the next page.
The words are yellowed with age, but his voice rings out clear and strong as he reads on.
Treasure stirs beside me, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
I grip her hand tightly, feeling the softness of her skin against mine.
My brother's voice fills the room, echoing off the walls as he continues to read. "Our mother was a strong woman," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion.
"She knew what she had to do, and she did it."
I listen intently as he reads on, his words painting a picture of our mother that I never could have imagined.
A woman who was brave and selfless, willing to sacrifice everything for her children.
My brother pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"She gave you both up for adoption," he says quietly, his voice trembling slightly.
"It was a difficult decision, but she knew it was the only way to keep you safe."
I feel like I've been punched in the gut as I listen to his words.
Given up for adoption?
How could that have been for the best?
My brother glances up at me for a moment, his eyes filled with a mix of sadness and understanding.
"I know this is hard to hear," he says softly.
"But I want you to know that our mother loved you both very much."
I nod slowly, trying to process everything that he's telling me. My brother clears his throat and begins reading again, his voice steady and strong despite the emotions that swirl beneath.
"Our mother wanted to give you both the best life possible," he reads, his voice filled with emotion.
"She knew that meant letting you go."
I close my eyes, feeling the weight of their love and sacrifice settle deep within me.
My twin brother sits with me in the dim hospital room, his hands shaking as he pulls out the next letter.
The paper crinkles loudly in the silence, making Treasure stir slightly in her bed.
He unfolds the delicate yellowed page, his fingers trembling as he holds it up to the faint light.
I lean forward in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch his face for any sign of what he's reading.
His eyes scan the first few lines before meeting mine, filled with shock and disbelief.
He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out.
Instead, he grips the paper tighter, his trembling fingers betraying the turmoil that rages beneath his calm exterior.
I lean closer to him, straining to hear his whispered words over the steady beeping of Treasure's monitor.
He clears his throat, his voice breaking as he begins to read.
"Our father was involved in some bad things," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the sound of my own heartbeat.
"He didn't want you two to get hurt."
I watch as his hands shake violently, the paper crinkling loudly in the silence.
He takes a deep breath before continuing, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and determination.
"He wanted to protect you both," he reads on, his words echoing off the sterile hospital walls.
I feel like I'm living in a dream as I listen to him read, my mind struggling to comprehend the words that spill from his lips.
Our father was involved in some bad things?
What could that possibly mean?
The room feels like it's spinning around me, making it hard to focus on anything but the sound of my brother's voice. He pauses for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"He didn't want you two to get hurt," he reads again, his voice filled with emotion.
I feel like I've been punched in the gut as I listen to his words.
Our father was involved in some bad things?
How could that be true?
My brother glances up at me for a moment, his identical green eyes meeting mine with a mix of pain and understanding.
"I know this is hard to hear," he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
"But I want you to know that our father loved you both very much."
I nod slowly, trying to process everything that he's telling me.
It's all so overwhelming - twin siblings, biological parents who kept secrets from us our whole lives...
My brother sits there for a moment, his hands shaking as he turns to the next page.
The words are yellowed with age, but his voice rings out clear and strong as he reads on. Treasure stirs beside us, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
I grip her hand tightly, feeling the softness of her skin against mine as I listen to my brother's words echo through the room.
"Our father was involved in some bad things," he reads again, his voice filled with emotion.
"He didn't want you two to get hurt."
I feel like I'm living in a nightmare as I listen to him read on, my mind struggling to comprehend the truth that spills from his lips.
Our father was involved in some bad things?
"There's more," he says, his voice trembling as he looks back at the page.
"Our father was part of something dangerous, something that could have destroyed us all."
I gasp, my mind racing to grasp the implications of his words.
He sits there for a moment, his eyes scanning the page before he reaches for the stack of letters.
His trembling hands pull out another envelope, the yellowed paper crackling as he unfolds it.
I watch in silence as he pulls out the delicate page, his fingers shaking as he holds it up to the dim light.
I lean forward in my chair, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch him scan the words.
Treasure stirs beside me, her monitor beeping steadily as she drifts through her dreams.
My brother's eyes meet mine for a moment, filled with a mix of sadness and determination.
I can see the pain in his identical green eyes, reflecting my own emotions as we uncover the truth about our family's past.
He takes a deep breath before continuing, his voice filled with a mix of sadness and strength.
He hands me the letter, his trembling fingers brushing against mine as I take it from him.
The yellowed paper feels fragile in my hands, the creases worn smooth by time.
I unfold the delicate pages, careful not to tear the aged paper.
My heart pounds in my chest as I see our father's familiar handwriting, his words spilling out across the page.
The dim hospital lighting makes it hard to read the faded ink, but the first line stands out clear as day: "My dearest sons, there's something you must know about the night you were born."
The weight of the revelation hangs in the air, a silent promise that nothing will ever be the same.
I sit there for a moment, the letter trembling in my hands.
My twin brother leans closer, his voice barely above a whisper as he asks me to read it aloud.
I take a deep breath, my voice shaking as I begin to read our father's words.
The room is dimly lit, the only sound the steady beeping of Treasure's monitor as she sleeps peacefully beside us.
I clear my throat, my voice echoing off the sterile hospital walls as I begin to read.
"The night you were born," I start, my voice filled with emotion.
"It was a stormy night, and your mother was in labor. We rushed her to the hospital, but she was too far along."
I pause for a moment, glancing up at my brother.
His eyes meet mine, identical green orbs filled with a mix of sadness and curiosity.
I take a deep breath before continuing.
"She gave birth to you both in the backseat of our car," I read on, my voice trembling with emotion.
"And in that moment, everything changed."
My brother leans closer, his eyes fixed on the letter in my hands as I continue reading. "The storm raged outside," I read on, my voice echoing through the quiet hospital room.
"But inside that car, there was only love and joy. Your mother held you both in her arms, tears of happiness streaming down her face."
I pause for a moment, taking a deep breath before continuing.
"And then something happened," I read on, my voice filled with emotion.
"Something that changed everything."
The words blur together on the page as tears fill my eyes.
My brother reaches out, placing a hand on my shoulder as I struggle to keep reading.
I force myself to focus on the words, our father's familiar handwriting jumping off the page as I continue reading aloud.
"Our mother made a choice," I say finally, my voice barely above a whisper.
"A choice that would change our lives forever."
"And now, it's time for us to make ours."
I sit there for a moment, the letter still clutched in my trembling hands.
My twin brother and I share a look, our identical green eyes filled with understanding.
Without a word, I carefully fold the letter and return it to him.
He takes it from me, his fingers brushing against mine as he tucks it back into the envelope.
The steady beep of Treasure's monitor fills the silence as we sit there, lost in our own thoughts.
Finally, my brother speaks up, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Do you think she was right?"
I turn to look at him, my eyes searching his face for answers.
"She gave up so much," he continues, his voice filled with emotion.
"But she did it to protect us."
I nod slowly, my mind racing with thoughts of our mother's sacrifice.
"She was brave," I say finally, my voice filled with admiration.
"And wise."
My brother nods in agreement, his eyes never leaving mine.
"We have to respect her decision," he says finally.
"No matter how hard it is."
I take a deep breath, letting his words sink in.
He's right - our mother made this choice to protect us, and we can't undo it now. The weight of that realization settles heavy on my shoulders as I look over at Treasure sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed.
The steady beep of her monitor fills the room, a constant reminder of the fragile life that hangs in the balance.
I glance back at my brother, seeing the same mix of emotions reflected in his eyes.
We both know what we have to do - respect our mother's decision and let Treasure go.
It's the hardest choice we'll ever make, but it's the only one that feels right.
With a deep breath, I stand up from my chair and walk over to Treasure's bedside.
My brother follows close behind me, his presence offering comfort in this difficult moment.
Together, we reach for the switch.
I stand there, frozen in place beside Treasure's hospital bed.
My twin brother stands behind me, his presence a steady weight as I stare down at the woman who has captured our hearts.
Her chest rises and falls with each steady breath, her pregnant belly a gentle swell under the thin hospital blanket.
The monitor beeps steadily beside her, its rhythmic pulse matching the pounding of my own heart.
I lift my hand, hesitating for a moment before reaching out to touch her.
My fingers tremble as I lower them towards her skin, the warmth of her body radiating up to meet me.
Her wedding ring glints in the dim hospital light, a symbol of the love we share and the life we've built together.
I take a deep breath, steeling myself for what's to come.
My brother's hand squeezes my shoulder in support as I make contact with Treasure's skin.
The moment my fingers touch hers, I feel a jolt of electricity run through my body. It's as if every memory we've shared comes flooding back - our laughter, our tears, our late-night conversations about our dreams and aspirations.
I close my eyes, letting those memories wash over me as I prepare to say goodbye to the love of my life.
The steady beep of the monitor fills the room, a constant reminder of the fragile life that hangs in the balance.
I open my eyes again, looking down at Treasure's peaceful face as she sleeps beside me.
Her features are soft and serene, her lips slightly parted as she breathes deeply.
I reach out again, gently brushing a strand of hair away from her face.
My brother's hand remains steady on my shoulder as I stand there, frozen in place.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to move forward.
My fingers tremble as I reach out to touch her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.
The monitor beeps steadily beside us, its rhythmic pulse echoing through the quiet room.
I swallow hard, trying to find the words to say goodbye.
But they catch in my throat, refusing to come.
Instead, I lean down close to her ear, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I love you," I say finally, my voice trembling with emotion.
"I always will."
As I speak, her vanilla perfume fills my senses, transporting me back to all the memories we've shared together.
I feel a lump form in my throat as I pull away from her, my eyes filling with tears. My brother's hand squeezes my shoulder again, offering silent support as I step back from Treasure's bedside.
The steady beep of the monitor fills the room, a constant reminder of the fragile life that hangs in the balance.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself to turn away from her.
My brother guides me gently towards the door, his presence offering comfort in this difficult moment.
As we walk away from Treasure's hospital bed, I can feel the weight of our decision settling heavy on my shoulders.
We pause at the threshold, knowing that once we cross it, everything will be different.
My brother's hand tightens on my shoulder, urging me forward.
I take a deep breath, forcing my feet to move.
The monitor beeps steadily behind us, its rhythmic pulse echoing through the quiet room.
As I reach the doorway, I turn back for one final look at Treasure.
She lies sleeping peacefully in her hospital bed, her chest rising and falling with each steady breath.
The monitor beeps steadily beside her, its rhythmic pulse matching the pounding of my own heart.
I feel a lump form in my throat as I gaze at her one last time.
My brother's hand remains steady on my shoulder, offering silent support as I prepare to say goodbye to the love of my life.
"I'll see you soon," I whisper finally, my voice barely audible over the sound of the monitor.
Then, with a heavy heart, I step through the door, leaving behind the life we once knew.
I stand in the doorway of the hospital room, my twin brother beside me.
Suddenly, a nurse rushes past us, hurrying towards Treasure's bed.
Her scrubs brush against my arm as she passes, and I turn to watch her work.
She checks the monitors and machines surrounding Treasure's bed, her eyes scanning the data with a look of concentration.
After a moment, she turns to us with a smile on her face.
"Her vitals are stabilizing," she says excitedly.
"It's a miracle."
My brother and I exchange a glance, both of us unsure of what to say.
The nurse continues to monitor Treasure's condition, checking her IV lines and adjusting the machines as needed.
As she works, Treasure's eyes begin to flutter open.
She blinks slowly, taking in her surroundings.
Her gaze lands on me first, and she smiles weakly. My brother's hand tightens on my shoulder, holding me in place as I freeze in the doorway.
I want to go to her, but I know that I can't.
Leaving is the only way to protect her now.
Treasure's eyes lock onto mine, and she whispers my name softly.
Her hand reaches out towards me, and I feel my heart ache with longing.
But I remain frozen in place, unable to move or speak.
The nurse notices Treasure's movement and quickly adjusts her IV line.
"She's coming around," she says with a smile.
"Let's give her some time to wake up fully."
I nod silently, still unable to tear my gaze away from Treasure's face.
Treasure's voice is barely a whisper, but it reaches me.
"Why are you leaving?" she asks, her eyes filled with confusion and fear.
My brother steps forward, his voice steady as he answers for both of us. "It's the only way to keep you safe," he says gently.
I stand there, watching as her eyes search my face for answers.
When she calls my name again, her voice is a little stronger.
My brother's hand tightens on my shoulder, holding me in place.
Every fiber of my being wants to rush to her side and take her hand in mine, but I know that I can't.
Instead, I force myself to stay where I am, frozen in the doorway.
"I'll always be with you," I whisper finally, my voice breaking with emotion.
Her soft sob follows me as I turn away from her, letting my brother guide me out of the room.
"Please, don't go," Treasure pleads, her voice cracking with desperation.
My brother leans in closer to me, whispering urgently, "You know it's the only way to keep her safe."
I hesitate, my heart torn, and reply softly, "I wish things were different."
Just then, Dr. Chen bursts into the room, waving a medical file in her hand.
Her voice cuts through Treasure's sobs, filled with excitement and urgency.
"Wait! Don't go yet," she says, rushing towards us.
"I've found a solution."
My brother's grip on my shoulder loosens as we turn to face the doctor.
"What is it?" he asks, his voice filled with a mix of hope and skepticism.
Dr. Chen's eyes dart between us, her expression serious but determined.
"There's a new witness protection program," she explains, holding up the medical file.
"It's designed for high-risk patients like Treasure. The FBI can relocate her, give her a new identity."
I feel my heart skip a beat as I listen to the doctor's words.
Could this really be our way out?
Dr. Chen continues to explain the details of the program, her words tumbling out in a rush.
"The FBI will provide her with a new identity, relocate her to a safe location. They'll even provide her with counseling and support to help her adjust."
I look at my brother, seeing the same mix of emotions reflected on his face.
It sounds too good to be true, but we have to consider it. Dr. Chen glances at Treasure, who is watching us with tearful eyes.
"But there's more," she says softly.
"This program isn't just for Treasure. It's for all of you."
My brother and I exchange a stunned glance.
"What do you mean?" he asks finally.
Dr. Chen smiles gently at us.
"The FBI can relocate all of you together," she explains.
"You can start fresh, leave your past behind."
I feel my heart racing as I listen to the doctor's words.
Could this really be our way out?
We could keep our family together, start fresh somewhere new.
It sounds like a dream come true.
But there are still so many questions left unanswered.
"How does it work?" my brother asks finally, his voice filled with skepticism.
Dr. Chen nods understandingly.
"The FBI will provide you with new identities, relocate you to a safe location," she explains patiently.
"They'll even provide you with counseling and support to help you adjust."
As she speaks, she moves over to Treasure's bedside and begins checking her vitals.
Treasure watches her quietly, her eyes filled with confusion and fear. "But what about our lives here?" my brother asks finally, his voice breaking through the silence that has fallen over the room.
Treasure's eyes widen with a flicker of hope, and she asks, "We can all be together again?"
Dr. Chen nods reassuringly, "Yes, but you'll need to decide quickly; the offer won't last long."
My brother looks at me, his voice steady but urgent, "This might be our only chance to keep her safe and stay together."
I move to stand beside Treasure's bed, taking her hand in mine.
Dr. Chen pulls out a stack of paperwork from the medical file and begins explaining the witness protection program.
My brother watches from the doorway, his eyes fixed on us.
I listen intently as Dr. Chen explains the details of the program.
She hands me a pen and I sign my name to the paperwork, my fingers trembling slightly.
Treasure looks at me, her voice filled with determination, "Can we leave tonight?"
Dr. Chen nods, "I'll make the calls."
As I finish signing the papers, fear tightens its grip on my chest.
But I know this is the right choice for our family.
My brother steps forward to sign his own papers, and Treasure squeezes my hand tightly.
Her monitor beeps steadily as we prepare for our new life together.
I help Treasure pack her hospital bag while Dr. Chen stands guard at the door.
My twin brother runs to our car to grab fresh clothes for us.
His footsteps echo on the tile floor, quick and nervous.
When Treasure's hands shake too much to fold her sweater, I take over.
I place each item carefully in the small duffel bag.
The monitor's steady beeping fills our tense silence.
Dr. Chen whispers that our escort will arrive in ten minutes.
Treasure looks up at me, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and excitement.
"Do you think we'll really be safe this time?" she asks softly.
I squeeze her hand reassuringly, "We have to believe it, for all our sakes."
I stand up and check the contents of our hastily packed bag one last time.
The sweater, toiletries, and a few personal items barely fill the small space.
Dr. Chen signals that our FBI escort has arrived.
I help Treasure sit up carefully, supporting her pregnant belly as she swings her legs over the bed's edge.
My brother returns with fresh clothes from our car, his face tense with urgency.
I zip the bag closed, my hands shaking slightly.
The steady monitor beeps remind me of everything we're leaving behind.
Treasure looks at me, her voice barely above a whisper, "What if they find us again?"
I meet her gaze, trying to project confidence I don't fully feel, "They won't. This time, we have the FBI on our side."
Dr. Chen nods in agreement, "And they'll do everything in their power to keep you safe."
