The third trimester arrived quietly, like a tide that had always been approaching, even when they weren't watching the calendar. Aria felt it before she saw it—her body shifting, slowing, stretching further than she thought it could. Movement was harder. Sleep was interrupted. The kicks came stronger now, like little elbows nudging from the inside.
But what startled her most wasn't the discomfort—it was how it made everything feel real.
"Breathe," Leon murmured, his hand pressed gently to the small of her back as they stepped into the clinic. "You've done this before."
Aria offered him a look. "Yes, but not with three lives inside me."
Fair.
The waiting room was bright and airy, filled with soft instrumental music and a few other expectant couples. Leon helped her into the chair before heading to the reception desk to check them in. She watched him go, impossibly tall, calm as ever, sleeves rolled up, clipboard in hand like he'd been doing this his whole life.
When he returned, he sat beside her and laced his fingers through hers.
"I think they know us by now," he said.
"Well, considering how many times we've come in for 'just to be sure' visits… I'd hope so," Aria teased.
He kissed the back of her hand. "Better safe than sorry."
The check-up went smoothly, though there was an extra layer of tension neither of them acknowledged until it was over. The ultrasound monitor lit up with flickers of movement—three strong heartbeats, three wiggling shapes. Aria's breath caught when one of the babies stretched and pushed a tiny foot so clearly against the side of her belly that even the nurse gasped.
"She's got a dancer in there," the nurse joked, and Aria laughed—relieved and awe-struck all at once.
Everything was normal. All three were growing well. No signs of early labor yet.
As they left the clinic, Leon insisted they stop for smoothies, then drove them—without warning—to a boutique baby store nestled in the heart of the city.
"I thought we were going home," she said, eyeing the pastel storefront.
"We are. But not before you help me pick out at least one ridiculous onesie," he said, getting out and opening her door.
Inside, the store was an explosion of soft colors, plush toys, and impossibly tiny clothes. Aria wandered down an aisle lined with baby blankets and burp cloths while Leon disappeared into a section labeled "Newborn Humor."
He returned holding up a triple-pack of onesies. One said:"I started the fight."The second: "I cried first."The third: "I won anyway."
Aria groaned. "They're not even born yet and you're planning mischief."
"I'm preparing them for sibling rivalry," Leon said with a straight face.
They bickered sweetly over baby booties, debated strollers, and paused a full five minutes in front of a hand-painted mobile with tiny stars and clouds. Aria pressed a hand over her belly as the babies stirred again, as if they too were part of the shopping.
"Do you think they can hear us?" she asked, smiling.
"They definitely know your voice," Leon said, wrapping an arm around her. "And they're probably already forming opinions about my fashion taste."
Aria chuckled. "Then they've inherited your judgmental eyebrows."
Later that evening, they sat cross-legged on the living room rug, surrounded by baby clothes and folded pamphlets from the parenting class Leon had convinced her to sign up for.
He held up one of the brochures and read aloud in an exaggerated voice:"Bonding with your babies begins before birth. Talk to them, play music, and keep a positive emotional environment."
Aria snorted. "Sounds like they're about to join a yoga retreat."
Leon leaned in and kissed her temple. "We are cultivating serenity in this apartment."
"Oh, are we?" she teased, flopping back into the pillows. "Because someone put together a crib while blasting heavy metal."
"I was giving them options."
She laughed and closed her eyes, her hand finding his on her belly. The room was warm. The house smelled like lavender. And their future—chaotic, overwhelming, but impossibly full—felt closer than ever.
"Leon?"
"Mm?"
"Promise me something."
He turned to her, serious in an instant. "Anything."
"Even when it gets hard—and I know it will—let's never forget how much we wanted this."
He kissed her knuckles, one by one. "I couldn't forget if I tried."