The years continued to pass, each one bringing new challenges and joys.
Sofia became a teenager, and suddenly Maya and Ethan were navigating a whole new world of drama—friend conflicts, first crushes, body image issues, the constant battle over screen time.
"I don't understand why I can't have Instagram," Sofia argued one night at dinner. "Everyone else has it."
"Everyone else isn't my daughter," Maya replied, a line she'd heard her own mother say a thousand times.
"You're so unfair! You don't understand anything!"
Sofia stormed off to her room, and Maya sighed. Ethan reached over and squeezed her hand.
"Remember when we thought babies were hard?" he said.
"Babies are easy. They can't talk back."
Isabella was the athlete of the family, playing soccer and basketball and running track. Maya and Ethan spent countless hours on bleachers, cheering her on, driving her to practices and games.
Lucas was the surprise comedian, always making them laugh with his observations and antics. He adored his sisters, following them around like a puppy, wanting to be included in everything they did.
The house was always full of noise—music playing, kids arguing, friends coming and going, the dog they'd finally gotten barking at the mailman. It was chaotic and messy and exhausting.
It was perfect.
Maya and Ethan's relationship had deepened over the years. They'd been through so much together—the fear of that first pregnancy, the struggle of those early years, the stress of building careers and raising kids. They'd fought and made up, cried and laughed, grown up together.
They still had date nights when they could manage it, though now it was more likely to be takeout on the couch after the kids were in bed than a fancy restaurant. They still held hands, still kissed goodbye in the morning, still said "I love you" every day.
But the real love showed in the everyday moments—Ethan bringing Maya coffee in bed on Saturday mornings, Maya leaving encouraging notes in Ethan's lunch, the way they could communicate with just a look across a crowded room, the way they still chose each other, every single day.
On their fifteenth wedding anniversary, Ethan surprised Maya with a weekend away—just the two of them, while Linda watched the kids.
They went to a bed and breakfast in the mountains, a place with no TV, no internet, just peace and quiet and each other.
"I can't remember the last time we were alone together for more than an hour," Maya said, curled up next to Ethan on the porch swing, watching the sunset.
"It's been a while," Ethan agreed. "But I wouldn't change any of it. Not the chaos, not the noise, not the constant interruptions. This is the life we built, and I love it."
"Even when Sofia slams doors and Isabella tracks mud through the house and Lucas draws on the walls?"
"Even then. Especially then. Because it means we have them. We have this family. We made it, Maya. Against all the odds, we made it."
Maya thought back to that scared nineteen-year-old girl, staring at a positive pregnancy test, terrified of the future. She thought about all the people who'd doubted them, who'd thought they were too young, too unprepared, too likely to fail.
And she thought about everything they'd built—three beautiful children, a home, careers, a love that had weathered every storm.
"We did make it," she agreed, kissing him softly. "And we're going to keep making it, for the rest of our lives."