The One
It began with two pink lines on a plastic stick.
Adrielle stared at them, her eyes wide, her fingers trembling. She sat frozen on the edge of the bathtub as if the world had paused with her. The silence was thick until a soft gasp escaped her lips.
“It’s… it’s real?” she whispered, barely audible, as if the lines might change their minds if she spoke too loud.
Cassandra crouched in front of her, equally stunned but already smiling. “It’s real, love.”
They stayed like that for a while, on the tiled bathroom floor, Yuki curled beside them like a warm pillow and Atticus weaving between their knees, meowing in protest over being ignored. Adrielle was still crying when Cassandra kissed her forehead, happy, overwhelmed tears laced with disbelief and wonder.
She cried for thirty-seven minutes, not because of fear or uncertainty but because the lines were pink, and pink is not her favorite color but Cassandra's.
Week 6: Cravings Begin
The first craving hit at exactly 2:43 a.m.
Cassandra jolted awake to a hand on her shoulder and Adrielle’s wide eyes staring down at her, dramatic in the dim lighting.
“I want kare-kare,” she said seriously, “with fries. Like… dipped in the sauce.”
Cassandra blinked at her, confused. “Dri… the only thing open right now is 7-Eleven.”
“But the baby wants kare-kare fries,” Adrielle said, eyes glistening.
So Cassandra drove to the nearest 24-hour joint and improvised. It was a disaster, but Adrielle ate it like it was a Michelin star dish, smiling between bites and proclaiming, “You’re going to be a great mom.”
Week 8–10: The Roller Coaster
The cravings became unpredictable.
One day it was scrambled eggs drowned in calamansi, the next was watermelon sprinkled with pepper. Cassandra started keeping a journal, color-coded with a legend:
🟢 — Acceptable
🟠 — Handle with caution
🔴 — Emergency cravings that might cause tears if unmet
But nothing could prepare her for the hormonal chaos.
Adrielle cried while watching a cat food commercial. She sobbed for twenty minutes because Yuki wouldn’t cuddle with her one morning. Once, she folded baby onesies she bought online then immediately broke down.
“They’re so small,” she wailed, holding the fabric like it was holy. “What if our baby grows up and goes to college abroad and leaves us?!”
Cassandra, patient and tired and loving, brought her warm milk, pulled her into a hug, and whispered, “We’re still on month two, Moja.”
Liv arrived one afternoon armed with tote bags of snacks, two pregnancy books, and a laminated checklist titled “Fairy Godmother Crisis Protocol.”
“I watched five documentaries,” she declared proudly, tossing a banana plushie onto the couch. “I’m ready.”
She wasn't particularly helpful, but she made Adrielle laugh so hard she snorted, which, by Week 9, was its own form of success.
Meanwhile, Rafa started calling Cassandra every other day with “important Tito updates.”
“Do babies like techno?” he asked once, completely serious. “Asking for future playlist curation.”
Cassandra nearly dropped her coffee. “Please don’t curate anything until the child is born.”
“Too late. I already bought a baby-size leather jacket. Very tasteful. Very punk.”
Cassandra kept the house together, restructured their work from home system, and made sure their team covered any urgent tasks. She handled emails while massaging Adrielle’s calves, took morning meetings with one AirPod in and one eye on Adrielle napping nearby.
She rubbed Adrielle’s back through morning sickness, learned how to perfectly time grocery deliveries with cravings, and sat through pregnancy vlogs Adrielle insisted they watch, sometimes sobbing halfway through them.
And when Adrielle snapped one evening, angrily accusing a pillow of being too fluffy and not fluffy enough, Cassandra didn’t react.
She simply switched out the pillows. Then brought three more. And offered a cuddle.
That night, after Adrielle fell asleep, curled around her like always, Cassandra lay awake for a few minutes longer. Her hand rested gently over Adrielle’s stomach, a quiet smile on her face.
“This chaos,” she whispered to the ceiling, “this tiny being we haven’t even met… it’s ours. And I wouldn’t change a single thing.”
If there was one thing Adrielle and Cassandra had learned and should have learned by now, it was this: never let Liv and Rafa plan anything unsupervised.
The invitation to their baby shower-slash-gender reveal arrived in the form of a glitter-filled e-vite at exactly 2:00 a.m. The subject line screamed across the screen:
Operation Baby Tsunami: A Love-Fueled Gender Reveal Shower
Location: Secret (You’ll be picked up. Wear something comfy.)
Hosted by: The Legendary Liv + Supreme Tito Rafa™
Adrielle blinked at her phone, eyes still adjusting to the sudden sparkle overload, and slowly turned toward the kitchen, where Cassandra was already sipping tea with a long-suffering sigh.
“They’re going to set something on fire, aren’t they?” Adrielle murmured.
Cassandra didn’t even look up. “Or each other. Let’s wear black. We’ll blend in with the chaos.”
They were blindfolded the minute they stepped into the pick-up van.
“This is unnecessary,” Cassandra grumbled.
“This is essential!” Liv’s voice chirped from the front seat, bubbling with excitement. “Think of it as building anticipation!”
Adrielle leaned over toward her wife. “Is this how kidnappings start?”
“I’m not convinced this isn’t a kidnapping,” Cassandra deadpanned.
When the blindfolds were finally lifted, they found themselves on a rooftop garden that overlooked the glimmering skyline. The air was thick with the scent of vanilla and fresh blooms, twinkling fairy lights hung between potted lemon trees, and pastel balloons bobbed gently in the breeze. Yellow, mint green, and soft cream danced in every corner, from the floating cloud-shaped centerpieces to the velveteen baby blocks stacked along the walls.
A massive banner hung across the rooftop railings: WELCOME BABY ??? — LOVED BY ALL, RULED BY TWO
Cassandra blinked. “They said small and intimate.”
Liv emerged like a pastel-colored whirlwind, dressed in a sherbet-hued pantsuit and glitter eyeliner that sparkled under the fairy lights. She held a clipboard like she was about to launch a rocket.
“It is small. Only forty-seven confirmed guests,” she said proudly.
Behind her, Rafa strutted in a custom tee that read TITO MODE: ACTIVATED, a whistle swinging from his neck, and aviators perched like a crown on his head.
“And don’t worry,” he added with flair. “I made a baby-safe playlist. Only five reggaeton songs made the cut.”
Adrielle leaned in. “Should we run?”
“Too late,” Cassandra muttered just as confetti exploded from above.
As far as chaos went, it was lovingly curated.
There was a diaper-changing relay where Rafa tried to swaddle a baby doll using Gucci scarves. A suspiciously extravagant buffet table leaned heavily into cheeses, truffle dips, and seven kinds of breadsticks. There was even a photo booth shaped like a literal crib.
Midway through the event, Liv rolled out a glittering mailbox labeled THE NAME VAULT.
“Alright, brainstorm time!” she called out. “Here are my top five baby name suggestions.”
She whipped out a rhinestone-encrusted index card like a magician unveiling her final trick. “Solstice. Orion. Moonbeam. CEO. Beyoncé.”
She paused dramatically. “Gender-neutral, obviously.”
Cassandra choked on her juice. “Liv.”
“I’m just saying,” Liv replied, unbothered. “Baby CEO Hidalgo-Sy has a ring to it.”
Rafa jumped in, waving a laminated list like he was holding state secrets. “My turn. Ready?”
He cleared his throat, “Thunder. Blaze. Champ. Rafa Jr.—non-negotiable—and Tiny DJ.”
Adrielle blinked. “Tiny DJ?”
Rafa nodded solemnly. “It’s aspirational.”
From a nearby bench, Margaret Sy leaned over to Elena Hidalgo and whispered, “I suddenly understand why Cassandra always has that exhausted look.”
Charles, watching the festivities with amused calm, chuckled. “At least it’s entertaining.”
Antonio Hidalgo sipped his wine. “I like Champ.”
Elena turned to the couple. “You have picked a name, right?”
Cassandra offered a soft, unreadable smile. “We’re still thinking.”
Adrielle added, “We want the name to be meaningful.”
The rooftop quieted for a breath. In the middle of pastel madness, balloon animals, and baby name brawls—something softer bloomed. That invisible thread of warmth and quiet certainty.
Love.
“Alright, lovebirds!” Liv’s voice blasted through the mic, startling half the guests. “Moment of truth!”
Adrielle and Cassandra were guided to the center of the garden, where a suspiciously large box sat waiting.
Cassandra eyed it like it might explode. “What’s in there?”
“If this detonates, Liv—” Adrielle began.
“It’s biodegradable!” Liv sang.
Rafa grinned and gave a grand countdown before yanking the cord.
The box exploded open in a burst of rainbow-colored confetti. A cascade of gold balloons floated into the night, forming glowing letters that shimmered as they rose:
IT’S A BABY!
A beat of stunned silence.
“…Wait, what?” someone whispered.
Liv beamed with both hands on her hips. “Surprise! It’s a gender-neutral reveal. We’re celebrating your baby, not what’s between their legs!”
Laughter rippled through the rooftop.
“You’re ridiculous,” Cassandra muttered under her breath.
“I’m revolutionary,” Liv declared, tossing glitter in the air. “Now let’s eat cake!”
Later, as the party wound down and after Rafa’s Baby Shark – Reggaeton Remix was forcibly cut off, after Elena and Margaret began plotting a co-authored Grandma Memoir, and after guests had trickled away with cupcake boxes and glitter in their hair—Adrielle and Cassandra found a quiet bench at the edge of the rooftop.
The city shimmered around them, soft and golden.
Cassandra’s head rested against Adrielle’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles across the gentle curve of her belly.
“I think Tiny DJ might grow on me,” Adrielle whispered with a smirk.
Cassandra groaned. “If we name our baby Tiny DJ, Rafa is only allowed to babysit once. That’s it.”
“Deal.”
Their hands intertwined. The city hummed softly beneath them.
“They’re so loved already, huh?” Adrielle murmured.
Cassandra turned to look at her, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “Unconditionally.”
In the background, Elena and Margaret were still talking baby clothes. Charles and Antonio stood nearby, sipping quietly, eyes filled with subtle pride. Liv was crafting personalized Fairy Godmother badges at a folding table, while Rafa hovered nearby, sketching a design for a custom onesie that read Tiny DJ in the House in glitter font.
It was messy. It was loud. It was absurd and excessive.
It was love—set on fire and lit with joy.
And it was perfect.
The chaos began at the baby store.
Adrielle stood in the center of the pastel wonderland, holding up a cloud-shaped lamp like it was a prized artifact.
“Too whimsical?” she asked, turning to Cassandra with hopeful eyes.
Cassandra, already juggling five catalogues, two crib samples, and a very detailed list from Liv titled Nursery Aesthetics, but Make It CEO Chic™, just raised a brow. “You picked that because it matches the cat’s bed.”
Adrielle grinned. “Exactly.”
In the corner, Rafa was humming while testing out a baby rocker. “We should get a disco ball. Babies need rhythm early.”
Liv gasped, clutching her purse. “YES. I’ll bring mine from college.”
Cassandra didn’t even look up. “That’s not what a disco ball is for, Rafa.”
He winked. “Tell that to Tiny DJ.”
The instructor's voice was calm and composed. “Alright, everyone. Time to practice controlled breathing with your partners.”
Adrielle raised her hand, serious as ever. “Like Lamaze or more of a... dramatic inhale for effect?”
Cassandra, eyes closed, exhaled. “Breathe, Dri. Not audition.”
Adrielle placed a hand on her chest. “In through the nose... out through the drama.”
From the back row, Rafa had his phone up, recording. “This is going viral.”
Liv leaned over and whispered, “#BirthingQueen #BumpAndBoss.”
They were politely asked not to return the following week.
It was 2 a.m. when Cassandra woke up to the sound of gentle hammering.
She shuffled out of bed, half asleep, only to find Adrielle in the nursery, assembling a bookshelf with the focus of a general preparing for battle.
“Love,” Cassandra murmured, “what are you doing?”
“Baby will need books,” Adrielle said without looking up.
“At two in the morning?”
“She might be gifted, Cass. She might read early.”
Atticus blinked slowly from atop the dresser. Yuki let out a sleepy bark as if in protest. Adrielle stood back to admire the crooked shelf. “This is for Tiny DJ’s emotional growth.”
“You will not name the baby Tiny DJ.”
Liv burst through their front door like a glitter-filled hurricane, balloons in one hand and a tiny onesie in the other. The words Future CEO were emblazoned in gold lettering across the chest.
“I just want it on record,” she declared dramatically, “that if it’s a girl, her name shall be Olivia Isabelle. After me and my grandma. Beautiful. Strong. Dramatic. Like me.”
Cassandra raised a brow. “Dramatic?”
Adrielle, lips twitching, whispered, “I actually really like it.”
Rafa nodded solemnly, now wearing his “Tito Mode: Activated” shirt again. “I approve. Her DJ name can be O-Liv.”
Cassandra sighed. “We are not naming our baby after a music pun.”
Adrielle beamed. “But we are naming her Olivia Isabelle.”
And just like that, it was settled.
It started at 4 a.m. with a gentle poke.
Then another.
And another.
“Cass,” Adrielle whispered.
“Mmm?”
“I think it’s happening.”
Cassandra sat up like she’d been electrocuted. “What’s happening?”
“I’m either in labor... or I’ve crushed my bladder. There’s no in-between.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were in the car. Adrielle was gripping Cassandra’s hand tightly, her breathing uneven.
“This is it. We’re going to meet her.”
“You’re not even fully dilated yet, Dri.”
“But I feel everything. Like… every sad movie I’ve ever cried over is playing in my uterus.”
“Please don’t say uterus again.”
The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly. The sterile scent of antiseptic clung to the air, grounding them in the reality of the moment.
Rafa and Liv arrived in record time, both wearing matching Team Olivia shirts and hauling a speaker blasting a playlist titled Born to Rule (Deluxe Labor Edition).
They were immediately removed from the labor room.
Time blurred. The pain, the pressure, the chaos, it all faded the moment the tiny cry echoed through the room.
There was a beat, a moment of unbearable silence, and then, a cry. Small. Fierce. Alive.
The doctor smiled. “Congratulations. It’s a girl.”
And then she was there.
Pink. Small. Soft. Alive.
Adrielle held her against her chest, trembling.
Cassandra leaned in, brushing away tears with the back of her hand.
“She looks like you,” Adrielle whispered, in awe.
Cassandra traced their daughter’s features slowly, reverently. “No,” she said softly. “She looks like us.”
Adrielle smiled through the tears. “Hello, Olivia Isabelle.”
The baby let out a yawn, as if bored by the dramatic entrance she had just orchestrated.
Rafa, peeking through the glass, whispered to Liv, “She’s already bored. A true DJ.”
Liv elbowed him, but her eyes never left the baby.
Rafa was pacing like a nervous uncle.
Liv was wiping tears and whispering to the nurse, “My name’s part of her name. I’m immortal now.”
When Cassandra and Adrielle emerged, Olivia bundled in a soft white blanket, everything fell still.
Rafa gasped. “She has Adrielle’s eyes and lips.”
Liv sniffled. “And Cassandra’s nose.”
Then, in unison: “She’s perfect.”
Adrielle turned to Cassandra, who was gently swaying their daughter.
“She’s everything,” she whispered.
Cassandra smiled, her voice soft as a promise.
“Our beginning.”
And in the background, Atticus and Yuki waited at home—ready to welcome the newest queen of their castle.