Danger ⚠️

Two month later.

The world had begun to feel gentle again. The winds no longer howled at night. The security updates had faded into routine. And though a shadow still lingered in their memories, it no longer held power over their hearts.

Orm and Ling had returned home.

The nursery was finished—light cream walls with tiny painted constellations, plush animals guarding every corner, and a pair of matching cribs like twin thrones for the future.

Mae Koy still visited every day, even moved her weekly brunches to their kitchen. Papa Oct, though quieter now, had begun to smile again—truly smile—every time Ling walked into the room, belly first, glowing and brave.

And Orm?

Orm hadn’t let go of Ling since the night she was taken. Not truly. Her touch lingered always—on her waist, her back, her belly, her hand. She spoke to the twins every morning. Kissed Ling’s temple every night.

They had made it through the storm.

And today…

Today, the sky was clear.

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the patio, casting golden light across the teakwood floor. Orm sat beside her father, two steaming cups of chrysanthemum tea between them, untouched.

Papa Oct looked different these days. Softer around the eyes. Slower to speak. But still the man who had ruled boardrooms and shadows with equal precision.

“I keep expecting to hear you pacing,” he said, glancing at her sideways.

Orm smiled faintly. “I’ve done enough pacing for three lifetimes this past month.”

Papa Oct nodded. “And now?”

Orm leaned back in her chair, one hand instinctively resting over her bump—even though Ling was the one carrying. She always felt them too, somehow.

“Now I just… wait,” she whispered. “And stay close. Ling’s past her due date. Doctor said it could be any minute.”

There was a silence between them—not heavy, not awkward. Just... full.

“She’s brave,” Papa Oct said after a moment. “Ling.”

Orm smiled gently. “She’s everything.”

Papa Oct looked down at his tea, swirling it slightly. “You remind me of your mother.”

Orm blinked. “She was graceful. Calm. I’m none of those things right now.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re fierce. Loyal. You love like it’s war. That was her, too. When you were born, she looked at you like she already knew you’d grow up to break the world open.”

Orm swallowed thickly. “I wish she could see this. See them. I can’t wait to meet them Pa”

“I know baby” he said simply. “I can’t wait either. I bet that my baby boy looks like you and my little girl will be like Ling”

There was a long pause.

Then Orm shifted slightly, eyes softening. “We picked names.”

Papa Oct looked up.

“For the girl… her name will be Araya,” Orm said. “We’ll call her Aya for short.”

“And the boy?”

Orm smiled. “Kawin.”

Papa Oct was quiet for a long time. Then he murmured, “Your mother’s family name was Araya.”

“I know,” Orm said softly. “That’s why.”

Papa Oct’s eyes shimmered, just slightly, before he reached out and squeezed her hand.

“You’re going to be a wonderful mother,” he said. “Even better than I was a father.”

Orm gripped his hand tighter. “You were what I needed. And now… I’ll be what they need. You are the best father dad!”

Just then, the back door opened slightly, and Mae Koy peeked out.

“She’s asking for you,” she said gently. “She’s feeling some pressure. Might be time.”

Orm was on her feet in a second—but she looked back at her father, eyes wide, heart pounding.

Papa Oct stood too, stepped forward, and placed both hands on her shoulders.

“Go meet your stars,” he said quietly.

Orm nodded once, emotion thick in her throat.

And with one last glance, she turned and walked back into the house, where the future was waiting—kicking gently beneath the heart of the woman she loved.

The bedroom was dim and quiet, bathed in the low glow of a single lamp on the nightstand. The windows were open, letting in a late evening breeze that carried the scent of gardenias Mae Koy had planted just outside. It should have been peaceful.

But Orm could feel the shift in the air the moment she stepped inside.

Ling sat propped against a stack of pillows, one hand braced on her belly, the other clenched tightly around the blanket. Her breathing was steady—but focused. Her lips parted as she exhaled slowly, deliberately.

Orm’s heart skipped. “Ling…”

Ling looked up. Her eyes were calm, but wide. “I think… it’s time.”

Orm crossed the room in two strides and dropped to her knees beside the bed. “Tell me everything. What are you feeling? How far apart are the—?”

Ling grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Breathe, baby. Breathe.”

Orm let out a nervous laugh and did exactly that. She kissed Ling’s palm before pressing it to her own cheek. “Are you okay?”

Ling nodded. “The pressure started about an hour ago, but it wasn’t rhythmic. Just now, it started coming in waves. Not painful yet… but strong. Like my body’s getting ready.”

Orm looked down at her bump, and her voice trembled as she whispered, “Hey, little ones… you picking your moment, huh?”

Ling exhaled again, leaning back against the pillows. “They always did have dramatic timing.”

Orm brushed her hair off her forehead gently. “We need to call the doctor. I’ll get Mae too. Are you sure it’s real this time?”

Ling met her eyes, and for a second, everything in the world stood still.

“I’m sure,” she said.

Orm nodded, kissed her quickly—once on the lips, once on her belly—then stood, all focus and fire again.

“I’ll get everything ready,” she said. “But I’m not leaving this room for long.”

Ling smiled, watching the woman she loved spring into action—strong, brave, a little panicked, but hers.

As Orm reached the door, Ling’s voice stopped her.

“Orm?”

She turned.

Ling’s eyes softened. “I’m not afraid. I love you”

Orm swallowed hard. “I know baby.. I love you”

And then she was gone, calling for Mae, her footsteps fast and purposeful down the hall.

In the bedroom, Ling placed both hands on her belly and whispered, “Let’s do this, my loves. Mama’s ready.”

The car ride was a blur.

Mae Koy sat in the backseat beside Ling, holding her hand with the calm patience of someone who’d done this before—more than once. But Orm, behind the wheel, gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline. Her eyes flicked constantly between the road, the mirror, and the clock.

“Breathe, baby,” Ling said from the back, her voice light despite the discomfort blooming across her belly.

“I am breathing,” Orm replied, her tone just slightly too high. “I’m just—driving.”

Mae Koy chuckled softly. “You’re driving like we’re in a chase scene.”

Orm didn’t deny it.

She parked in the emergency entrance within record time, throwing the door open and running around to Ling’s side. Within seconds, hospital staff appeared with a wheelchair, responding to the message Papa Oct had sent ahead. The Kornnaphat name carried weight—even in maternity wings.

“I can walk,” Ling tried to argue.

“You’re sitting,” Orm insisted, already helping her down.

Inside, the lights were soft, the halls quiet, and the nurses moved with trained kindness. As Ling was wheeled into a private birthing suite—fully prepped and monitored—Orm never once let go of her hand.

The doctor, a woman in her late forties with kind eyes and a confident presence, entered the room just as Mae Koy was tucking a small travel bag away in the corner.

“Mrs. Kornnaphat,” she greeted, glancing between the monitors. “Looks like your babies are making their move.”

“Tell me they’re cooperating,” Orm muttered, perched on the edge of the bed.

The doctor smiled. “So far? Perfect positioning. Your wife is already dilated four centimeters. We’ll monitor her closely, but we might be welcoming two little miracles before the sun comes up.”

Ling breathed out slowly, her hand tightening around Orm’s. “They always had good timing.”

Hours passed in waves—of pain, of strength, of soft words and strong hands. Mae Koy stepped out at one point to call Papa Oct, who was pacing the entire living room back home, already preparing champagne and two sets of monogrammed blankets.

Orm never left Ling’s side.

She massaged her shoulders during contractions. She whispered affirmations, forehead to forehead. She counted breaths and wiped away sweat. And when Ling cried—not from fear, but from overwhelm—Orm kissed her cheeks, one after the other, and cried too.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Orm whispered. “They’re almost here. You’re almost there.”

“I’m scared,” Ling admitted in a rare whisper. “Not of the pain. Of… what happens after. How everything will change.”

Orm placed her hand over their joined ones, where Ling’s wedding ring still caught the soft light.

“Nothing changes,” she said. “We just get more to love. I get to love two mini you, it’s a dream”

A nurse re-entered. “Time to push.”

And with that, the room turned quiet—focused—alive.

Orm leaned in, pressing her lips to Ling’s temple. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you baby.”

And Ling, eyes full of power and pain and love, whispered back: “Then let’s meet our babies.”

The delivery room was hushed now, but electric—like the air before a summer storm.

The medical team moved quickly, efficiently, but Orm couldn’t see anything past Ling.

Her wife gritted her teeth through the first push, jaw clenched, fingers digging into Orm’s hand with a strength that made Orm gasp—but she didn’t let go. Not once.

“You’re okay,” Orm breathed. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Ling cried out again, tears pooling in her eyes, but she didn’t stop. She was radiant and furious and divine—more goddess than girl now.

And then—

“I see the head,” the doctor called.

Orm felt her heart leave her body.

“Come on, baby,” she whispered, forehead pressed to Ling’s. “Just a little more. You’ve got them.”

Ling pushed again, breath sharp and guttural.

And then—suddenly—a sound split the air.

A cry.

A baby’s cry.

The doctor lifted a tiny, squirming form, slick with life and newness. “Baby girl is first!”

Orm’s knees nearly gave out.

“Araya,” she whispered. “Oh my god—Aya. Baby she’s beautiful, just like you”

The nurse brought her over quickly, placing the baby on Ling’s chest for just a moment. Ling looked down, tears already rolling down her face. “Hi,” she breathed, voice cracking. “Hi, my baby.”

Orm cupped her hand around their daughter’s back, protectively, reverently. She was so small. So warm. So real.

Then they were moving again.

“Baby boy is coming” the nurse reminded.

Orm looked back to Ling, and this time—Ling nodded. “ILet’s do this one last time,” she whispered. “For him.”

And she did.

One more push.

One more roar of strength.

One more scream—

And then—

Another cry.

This one deeper. Stronger.

“Baby boy is here!” the doctor said, holding up the second miracle.

Orm laughed, loud and wet and full of something ancient. “Kawin,” she said through her tears. “Hi, my boy.” grabiing him tenderly, their eyes met quickly, and Orm was not far from bursting in tears, her son was beautiful, like her daughter.

The moment he was laid against Ling’s chest, beside his sister, something shifted.

Ling sobbed openly now—shoulders trembling, her hands trying to hold both of them at once. “They’re so perfect,” she whispered. “Orm, we did it.”

Orm collapsed gently to her knees beside the bed, her forehead pressed to Ling’s arm, tears soaking her skin.

“You did it my love,” Orm whispered. “Our babies are perfect. You are perfect my wife.”

Ayara curled a fist near her mother’s chin. Kawin made a soft grunting sound, already leaning into the warmth between them all.

Orm kissed them both—first Aya’s tiny head, then Kawin’s cheek. Then she leaned up and kissed Ling’s lips, long and trembling.

“I’ve never loved you more,” she whispered. “You gave me everything, Ling. You gave me them.”

Ling was crying too hard to speak. She just nodded, and kissed her again, and again, and again.

And outside, the world kept turning.

But in this room?

Time had stopped. Because love had never looked more like this.

Two babies. Two hearts.

And one family—finally whole.

____________

The room had calmed.

Aya and Kawin were gently taken by the nurses for their first checkups—weights, Apgar scores, soft cloths drying their tiny fingers and toes. No alarms. No rushing.

Just soft murmurs.

Perfect vitals. Strong lungs. Beautiful, healthy twins.

Ling rested back against the pillows, still catching her breath, damp hair clinging to her forehead. Her hand never let go of Orm’s.

Orm kissed her knuckles and held her gaze like she’d fall apart without it.

“You’re okay,” Orm whispered. “They’re okay. Everyone’s okay.”

Ling gave a small, breathy laugh. “That’s the first time in months I’ve believed that.”

The nurse returned with their babies bundled in soft hospital swaddles—blue and pink wristbands matching their names, and tiny knitted caps too big for their heads.

“Aya first,” she said with a smile, handing their daughter carefully into Ling’s arms.

Ling cradled her, tears returning as her lips brushed the baby’s forehead. “Hi, my little starlight…”

Orm couldn’t look away. Her heart was outside of her body now—twice.

“And Kawin,” the nurse added, placing their son in Orm’s arms with equal care.

Orm froze for a second.

He was so small. So warm. So alive.

She breathed out a trembling, reverent laugh.

“Hey, my boy. You took your time but you’re finally here.”

The nurse adjusted Ling’s bed, helping her sit up more comfortably. “You’ll rest here for a while, and then we’ll bring you to postpartum care once the room is ready. You did beautifully.”

Orm looked up. “Thank you. For everything.”

When they were alone again, Orm shifted closer, sitting beside Ling on the bed with Kawin in her arms and Aya curled against her mother.

They stared in silence, overcome.

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved anything more than this moment,” Orm whispered.

Ling looked at her, eyes glimmering. “I do.”

Orm blinked.

Ling leaned forward, kissing her wife gently—slow and full of the kind of love that built homes, ended wars, and brought souls back to life.

“I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you for never giving up. On me. On them.”

Orm’s voice broke. “You’re everything. All three of you. I would’ve crossed fire if it meant holding you like this.”

Orm reached over, tucking Araya into the crook of her other arm. She now held both their babies—one against each side, close to her chest.

She looked down at them, her voice soft.

“You scared Mama,” she whispered, her lips trembling. “You scared me so much, little ones. But I’d do it again. A thousand times. For you. And for your Mama.”

Ling leaned into her, resting her head on Orm’s shoulder, her arms gently wrapped around them all.

And in that room, wrapped in blankets and quiet, layered in light and breath and new beginnings—

A family was born.

_________

The hospital room glowed softly in the warm lamplight, the golden hue casting a gentle shimmer across the white walls. Outside, the sky had darkened into a deep velvet blue, stars just starting to peek through.

Inside, two sleeping miracles lay in clear bassinets beside their mothers’ bed—Araya and Kawin, each wrapped in soft monogrammed blankets with delicate gold stitching. Aya’s tiny hand rested on her cheek. Kawin’s lips twitched in his sleep, as if dreaming already.

Orm sat on the edge of the bed beside Ling, one arm around her waist, the other resting on the edge of Kawin’s crib.

Then came the knock.

Orm stood first, opening the door—just in time for Mae Koy to nearly barrel into the room, tears already welling in her eyes.

“My babies,” she whispered, hands pressed to her mouth. “Oh my God…”

Papa Oct followed behind, composed but visibly emotional, carrying a large bouquet and a wrapped gift under his arm. He paused when he saw the bassinets, eyes softening in a way he rarely let anyone see.

Then Ling’s parents arrived, followed by Niran, arms full of fruit baskets, balloons, and a stuffed elephant big enough to sit in a corner chair.

“Oh my loves! I am so proud of both of you” says Ling’s mother wrapping her daughter in a hug while her father smile softly at her, already absorbed by his grandchildren.

“Is it time to meet my stars?” Niran asked, grinning ear to ear.

Ling laughed, still a little hoarse. “It’s time uncle.”

Everyone moved slowly, reverently, as if the room was sacred now.

Mae Koy approached first. She leaned over Aya’s crib and gasped softly. “She looks just like you, Orm. Same little nose.”

Orm smiled with pride. “But she has Ling’s lips. And attitude.”

Papa Oct stepped beside her, taking in the sight quietly. “And him?” he asked, motioning toward the other bassinet.

Orm nodded. “Kawin. Our little fighter.”

He looked down at his grandson, then gently reached a hand in, touching the soft blanket. “He’s strong. He’ll grow into his name. He looks like you”

Across the room, Ling’s mother knelt beside Ling, stroking her hair and wiping at tears. “You’re so brave,” she whispered. “So strong ly daughter.”

Ling laughed, letting herself cry freely now. “I didn’t do it alone.”

Her father gave Orm a small nod of respect. “It takes two,” he said. “You did well. Both of you.”

Niran was already leaning over Kawin’s crib, grinning. “I call dibs on favorite uncle. Hello my baby nephew”

“Uncle?” Mae Koy scoffed. “You’ll have to earn that title. I’m grandma of the year starting now.”

The room filled with laughter, soft chatter, a quiet rustling of wrappings and tissue paper as gifts were laid on the side table—matching robes for the babies, a lullaby playlist from Niran, a gold charm bracelet with two tiny engraved initials from Mae Koy.

Then Orm helped Ling adjust in bed, and gently picked up Aya.

“She’s ready for her first family cuddle,” she said, offering her to Mae Koy, who took her with practiced, trembling hands.

Papa Oct stepped to Orm’s side.

Orm leaned into him for a brief moment—his hand resting protectively over her shoulder. “I am proud of you” he said quietly.

Ling, watching them from the bed with Kawin now in her arms, reached for Orm with a soft smile. “Come here, Mama.”

Orm sat beside her again, wrapping them both in her arms as the families continued to fuss over the babies, trading stories and promises of babysitting shifts. She presses a kiss on both their foreheads, whispering I love you’s, under the eye of everyone, who could see that Orm fell in love with her children.

“I love you my wife, than you for this gift” whispers Orm in Ling’s ear before kissing her temple.

In that moment—one family, two babies, a dozen tear-filled eyes—the war felt far behind them. 

Love had won.

The hospital room was wrapped in a hush, the world outside slowing to match the soft rhythm of two tiny heartbeats.

Orm lay on the narrow bed beside Ling, somehow fitting her long limbs between the blanket folds and IV lines, one arm around her wife’s shoulders. Their heads leaned together, tired but glowing, their eyes locked on the two bassinets beside them.

Kawin had just fallen asleep after a diaper change that involved a surprising amount of drama. Araya had been easier, all yawns and gentle stretches before drifting back into dreamland, her little fists curled like rosebuds.

Ling smiled, leaning into Orm’s side. “We made people,” she whispered, as if the thought had just truly hit her.

Orm laughed softly, brushing a hand down Ling’s arm. “Perfect, tiny people. You’re incredible, you know.”

Ling turned her face, just enough to kiss the corner of Orm’s mouth. “You kept me steady. You held all the fear so I could just focus on them.”

Orm’s voice cracked slightly. “I was so afraid, baby. Of losing you. Of failing you.”

“But you didn’t,” Ling said, threading their fingers together. “You were there. From the first breath.”

Orm exhaled, eyes flicking over to the bassinets again.

“I think Kawin already knows how to boss people around,” she whispered. “He gave me a look earlier when I swaddled him too tight.”

Ling grinned. “And Aya’s a little diva. She sighed at me when I tried to adjust her hat.”

“Power couple,” Orm whispered. “Just like their moms.”

They both laughed, hushed and breathless, soaking in the miracle of the moment.

Ling leaned her head on Orm’s shoulder. “Do you think we’re ready for this?”

Orm looked down at her wife, eyes full of awe. “I don’t think anyone’s ever ready. But we’re in it. Together. And that’s all they need.”

Kawin let out a tiny sigh in his sleep. Aya shifted, her hand reaching toward the bassinet wall.

Orm and Ling watched, hearts full, as their children dreamed side by side—already tethered to the same rhythm.

Two mothers.

Two stars.

One family.

Wrapped in the quiet, perfect wonder of love.

_____

Four days later, the house smelled of jasmine and sunshine.

The front doors of the Kornnaphat-Kwong residence opened wide as the family stepped in together—Ling cradling Araya in her arms, Orm carrying Kawin with one arm and balancing the diaper bag with the other, both of them followed closely by their proud, beaming parents.

Mae Koy rushed to fluff the pillows in the living room. “This blanket is too scratchy for newborn skin. I told them to switch it last week.”

Ling’s mother was already in the kitchen, unpacking neatly labeled containers of postpartum soups and fresh fruit. “I’ll just organize everything in smaller portions, you’ll see. Easy to heat up when you’re both exhausted.”

Papa Oct and Ling’s father exchanged a glance—silent, resigned, and completely amused as the women moved through the house like loving hurricanes.

“You girls get settled,” Papa Oct said gently. “We’ll be back tomorrow. Just… breathe a little. Enjoy it.”

“And call if you need anything,” added Ling’s mother, kissing both babies on the forehead before allowing herself to be ushered out, reluctantly, by her husband.

The door clicked shut.

Silence.

Real, soul-deep silence.

Orm and Ling stood in the middle of their home, both swaying slightly from exhaustion, each cradling a twin.

Then, at the exact same moment, they looked at each other.

“We made it,” Orm whispered.

Ling nodded, eyes glassy with emotion. “We’re home. And safe”

They moved together slowly, carefully, into the sunlit living room. The late afternoon light filtered through gauzy curtains, casting golden warmth over the couch where they gently sat down, each still holding a baby.

Araya let out a soft sigh. Kawin blinked sleepily.

“They like it,” Ling whispered, eyes scanning the familiar walls. “It’s warm. It’s safe.”

Orm leaned over, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Because you’re here. Their heart knows yours.”

Ling rested her head on Orm’s shoulder, both of them looking down at the two perfect little humans wrapped in monogrammed blankets.

For the first time since the chaos, since the fear, the threats, the pain—

It was just the four of them.

Just them.

Kawin’s hand twitched, reaching for Aya’s sleeve. Her tiny fingers shifted in response.

Orm smiled. “See that? He already can’t let her go.”

Ling laughed softly. “Just like his mama.”

They sat that way for a long, still moment—no alarms, no messages, no dark clouds on the horizon.

Just peace.

Just home.

Just the Kornnaphat-Kwong family.

Whole. And at last, together.

The house had gone quiet again.

It was almost midnight, and the soft lull of crickets hummed beyond the windows. The nursery glowed with the warm light of a moon-shaped lamp, casting a soft golden shimmer over the room.

Orm stood barefoot, her hair slightly tousled, wearing one of Ling’s oversized shirts and cradling a half-full bottle of milk in one hand—and Kawin, nestled close to her chest in the other.

He had stirred with a tiny whimper, no full cries yet. Just a twitch, a fuss. A quiet “I’m here,” from the bassinet.

And Orm had moved before even thinking. Ling was still asleep in their room, Araya curled against her chest like she belonged there—and she did.

So Orm walked gently back and forth with her son, humming a lullaby she barely remembered learning. Her voice was quiet, full of wonder.

“Hey, my little warrior,” she whispered, adjusting the bottle and brushing his cheek. “You really didn’t want to wait for morning, huh?”

Kawin blinked up at her, eyes wide and unfocused, mouth finding the bottle.

“Just like your Mama,” she whispered with a smile. “Always knowing what you want.”

She sat in the rocking chair by the window, wrapped them both in a soft blanket, and rocked gently, slow and steady.

For a moment, she just watched him—watched the way his tiny fingers flexed, how his lashes brushed his cheeks. He was so real now. And hers.

And Ling’s.

A quiet rustle behind her.

Orm turned her head, and there stood Ling in the doorway—messy hair, sleepy eyes, Araya nestled against her chest in a sling wrap, looking like a dream and a miracle all at once.

“You should’ve let me help,” she whispered.

“I wanted this one,” Orm whispered back. “I think… I needed this one.”

Ling walked over and sat on the armrest beside her, leaning her head on Orm’s shoulder. “They’re perfect.”

“They’re everything,” Orm said, her voice trembling just a little.

A beat of silence.

“Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Thank you for giving them to me.”

Ling looked up at her, eyes shimmering. “Thank you, my dear wife.”

And there, in the quiet glow of their nursery, the Kornnaphat-Kwong family began their forever.

Side by side. Heart to heart.

Four heartbeats, one home.

_______

The front door opened with a dramatic swing.

“I’m here!” Niran’s voice rang out like a declaration of war and joy all at once. “Prepare my children for cuddles, spoiling, and unsolicited fashion critiques.”

Orm barely had time to react before he kicked off his designer sneakers at the door and dropped his enormous tote bag with a loud thud—packed, presumably, with snacks, toys, and things the babies were still too young to use.

Ling peeked around the kitchen corner, a towel slung over her shoulder. “Niran, lower your voice—Kawin just fell asleep.”

“Kawin just fell asleep,” Niran mocked playfully in a whisper, tiptoeing dramatically into the living room like he was performing ballet. Then his eyes landed on the bassinets.

Everything went still.

Niran gasped so hard he swayed like he might faint. “Oh my God. Oh my GOD. You didn’t tell me they got cuter since last week. How dare you.”

Orm grinned from the couch. “They’re on a mission to destroy you.”

“They already have!” Niran wailed, rushing over. He dropped to his knees in front of the bassinets, hands pressed over his heart like a man beholding royalty. “Aya… Kawin… You perfect, chubby-cheeked angels. Are you real? Is this a dream? Am I dead?”

Ling laughed, coming to sit beside Orm, who immediately wrapped an arm around her.

Niran leaned over, gently brushing his finger along Araya’s tiny hand. She stirred, then latched onto his finger in her sleep.

Niran teared up instantly.

“NO. No. This is not okay. Who gave you the right to be this small and powerful?”

Orm chuckled. “You’re already whipped.”

“I would commit crimes for her,” Niran sniffled. “And for him too. I would start wars. Burn cities. What’s a moral code? I’ve forgotten.”

Ling leaned into Orm’s side, her heart full watching the scene. “He’s worse than I thought.”

Orm kissed her temple. “He’s perfect.”

Niran wiped at his eyes, sniffled again, then looked up at them with the softest smile. “You know… just two years ago, I was still yelling at Ling to confess she was in love with you.”

Ling groaned and hid her face in Orm’s shoulder. “Don’t bring that up.”

“No, no—let me be sappy. This is my reward,” Niran said, grinning as he sat cross-legged on the floor. “I watched you two fumble around your feelings like high schoolers. Then you got brave. Then you fought through hell. And now—” He motioned dramatically toward the babies. “Now look. You’re wives. You’re moms. You made actual humans.”

He paused, eyes suddenly glistening.

“I’ve never been more proud of anyone.”

Orm blinked fast, her throat tightening. “Don’t make me cry.”

“You’re allowed,” Niran said softly. “Because this… this is everything. This is love in its realest form.”

Ling reached out, grabbing his hand. “Thank you. For always being here.”

Niran squeezed it back. “Always will be. Now hand me a baby before I explode.”

Orm laughed and carefully lifted Kawin from his crib, placing him in Niran’s arms. Niran cradled him like a pro, then gave a theatrical gasp.

“His cheeks. I want them on a t-shirt.”

Ling shook her head fondly. “You’re insane.”

“I’m an uncle,” Niran said

____

The late afternoon sun filtered gently through the wide windows of the nursery, painting the room in soft golden hues. Warm laughter filled the space, the kind that came from deep within—the kind that only love, time, and shared joy could shape.

Araya was bouncing gleefully in her playpen, her tiny fists grabbing for a colorful mobile dangling above her. Her giggles echoed like music. Meanwhile, Kawin had managed to pull one of Orm’s socks off her foot and was now waving it proudly in the air like a tiny, victorious flag.

“Look at him!” Ling laughed from the floor, where she sat cross-legged beside their daughter. “Orm, your son is stealing your wardrobe again.”

Orm leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching. Watching Ling’s head fall back in laughter. Watching the way the afternoon light turned her skin golden and made her eyes sparkle. Watching the two little lives they made together fill the room with chaotic, beautiful life.

She walked over slowly, dropping down beside Ling without a word.

And then—without warning—she cupped Ling’s face and kissed her.

Deep. Loving. Full of emotion.

Ling blinked, a little startled at first, before melting into it, her hands finding Orm’s waist. When they finally broke apart, Ling smiled, breathless.

“What was that for?”

Orm’s voice was low, soft. “You. You’re everything. Every time you laugh like that, every time I see them smile at you like that… I just fall harder. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Ling’s eyes shimmered. “You say that like it’s new.”

“It is,” Orm whispered. “It’s new every single day.”

They sat there for a moment longer, wrapped in silence and wonder, the quiet hum of toys playing a lullaby behind them.

Later that night, they moved in rhythm, like only mothers who had done this every night for months could.

Orm gently lifted Aya from her play mat, kissing the crown of her daughter’s head as she whispered, “Time to sleep, starlight.” Ling scooped Kawin into her arms, swaying a little as she brushed his hair with her fingers. “We’ll play again tomorrow, baby boy.”

Orm checked the room temperature while Ling dimmed the lights. A lavender diffuser misted near the crib, and soft white noise hummed from the corner speaker. Everything was placed with care. Thoughtfully. Lovingly.

They laid their babies down side by side, tucked into their matching cribs with cloud-patterned sheets. Aya let out a soft sigh and turned her face toward Kawin, who, even half-asleep, reached one hand out in her direction.

Ling watched with a full heart. “They always find each other.”

Orm wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Just like us.”

They stood together, side by side, staring down at their sleeping children—their greatest adventure.

Then Orm whispered into the dark, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this life… but I will spend every single day protecting it. Loving you. Loving them.”

Ling leaned her head on Orm’s shoulder.

“You already are my love. You’re the best mother they could have, and we love you”

And together,the wives left the nursery, hand in hand, hearts full, as the stars outside kept quiet watch over the people who once fought so hard just to be here.

The house was wrapped in gentle stillness, the kind that came only after the last lullaby had been hummed and two tiny hearts had finally drifted to sleep.

Orm and Ling were curled up on their bed, wrapped in a thick blanket, legs tangled, the soft glow of the baby monitor between them. The screen flickered gently, showing Araya and Kawin asleep in their matching cribs—Araya’s tiny hand unconsciously reaching toward her brother’s, and Kawin’s little fingers twitching as if in response. The distance between them barely existed. Even in dreams, they sought each other.

Ling sighed contentedly, her head resting on Orm’s shoulder. “Look at them… They’re always trying to find each other. Like they’re afraid to be apart.”

Orm smiled, eyes fixed on the screen. “It’s their bond. They’ve been together from the start. Nothing can break that.”

Ling nodded softly. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” Orm whispered, brushing her lips against Ling’s hair. “I still haven’t recovered from seeing you give birth to them. You were… you are incredible.”

Ling laughed quietly, cheeks flushing. “You were the one who held me through every contraction, every push. I don’t know how I would’ve done it without you.”

“You did all of it,” Orm said, sitting up just enough to look her in the eyes. “I’ve never loved you more than I did that day… Watching you bring our children into this world—Araya and Kawin… I’ll never forget it.”

Ling leaned in, cupping Orm’s cheek. “And now they’re here. Half you. Half me. And somehow entirely themselves.”

Orm chuckled, her eyes flicking back to the monitor. “Aya already gives me the same judging stare you do when I steal your last mango slice.”

Ling giggled. “That’s the Kwong DNA at work. Fierce, elegant, and deeply committed to fairness.”

“And Kawin is wild,” Orm added with a grin. “My little rebel. Did you see him today? He tried to climb out of the bouncer like he had somewhere to be.”

“Just like you,” Ling teased. “Restless and full of fire. But he has your eyes, Orm. That same amber warmth. And Aya? She has my gaze, but her diva side ? That’s from you.”

Orm reached out, lacing their fingers together. “So we really made magic, huh?”

“We really did,” Ling whispered.

They turned back to the monitor. On the screen, Kawin shifted closer, and Aya’s tiny hand found his. They didn’t even wake—just settled deeper into sleep, smiles brushing their lips.

Ling gasped softly. “They’re holding hands.”

Orm’s voice cracked with tenderness. “Even in their dreams.”

Ling wiped a tear away, laughing gently. “They’re going to have each other forever.”

“Just like we do,” Orm said, pulling her wife into a slow, quiet kiss.

And in that moment—bathed in the soft hum of the baby monitor, wrapped in each other’s arms—their world felt whole. Two hearts sleeping down the hall. Two more holding each other tight. A love story that had become a family.

Nothing else mattered. She moans on her wife’s lips, savouring her taste, her favourite flavour, hers.

The kiss deepened.

What started as a soft brush of lips—gentle, grateful—quickly ignited into something hotter, hungrier. Orm's hand slid up Ling’s waist, fingertips grazing beneath the hem of her shirt. Ling gasped softly, her hands already tangled in Orm’s hair, pulling her closer like she couldn’t get enough.

“I missed you,” Ling breathed, voice low, eyes dark and heavy with feeling.

Orm’s lips trailed along her jaw, down her neck, lingering at her pulse. “You drive me insane,” she whispered. “Every night I watch you rock our babies to sleep, and all I want is to touch you. To have you.”

Ling let out a soft, broken sound—half a laugh, half a moan—arching into Orm’s touch.

“I want you too,” she said, her voice trembling with truth. “God, I want you so much it hurts sometimes.”

That was all Orm needed.

She stood, pulling Ling up with her in one smooth, confident motion. Ling’s surprised giggle was swallowed by another kiss—deeper this time, fiercer.

Orm didn’t break contact. Her hands slid under Ling’s thighs, lifting her effortlessly. Ling gasped again, wrapping her legs around her wife’s waist, her arms around her shoulders.

“You still carry me like I weigh nothing,” she whispered against Orm’s lips.

“You are nothing,” Orm growled playfully, pressing Ling up against the wall for a heartbeat. “Nothing compared to what I feel for you.”

The words hit like fire.

Orm walked them to their bedroom, still locked in kisses, still tangled in whispered gasps and low, needy sighs. 

Orm laid Ling down gently, like she was something sacred—something she’d fought wars for, something she would never take for granted. Ling’s chest rose and fell beneath the soft cotton of her shirt, her eyes wide, glowing in the faint light that spilled through the window.

Orm hovered over her, kissing her slowly, savoring every second. Her hands slid beneath Ling’s shirt, fingers grazing skin she already knew by heart—soft, warm, hers.

Ling arched into the touch, her breath hitching. “Orm…”

That voice—still breathless, still raw—sent heat coursing through Orm’s body. She kissed down her throat, across the hollow of her collarbone, lingering just above Ling’s heart.

“I missed this,” Orm murmured against her skin. “I missed you.”

Ling’s hands slid down her back, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “Then take me, Orm. I’m yours.”

Clothes were shed between kisses, between soft laughter and desperate sighs, until nothing was left but bare skin and years of devotion.

Orm touched her like someone relearning every inch—tracing paths down her waist, across her hips, along her thighs—slow, reverent, but burning with need. Ling’s body trembled beneath her, breath stuttering as her wife kissed a trail lower and lower, until her thighs parted instinctively.

When Orm pressed her mouth to her, Ling gasped—a soft, aching sound—and buried her fingers in her hair. Orm moved slowly at first, savoring the taste of her, the way her body responded instantly, instinctively, like they’d never spent a day apart.

“Orm—please—” Ling whispered, thighs tightening, back arching. Her hips rolled against Orm’s mouth, the pleasure building, growing, surging with each slow, rhythmic stroke of Orm’s tongue.

Orm moaned softly against her, hands steadying her hips, and increased the pressure. Ling broke, her body trembling with tension as she tumbled over the edge with a gasp, crying out her wife’s name like a prayer.

Orm didn’t stop—only slowed, letting Ling ride the wave until she was breathless, shaking, blinking through tears.

When she finally collapsed back into the mattress, Orm kissed her way back up her body—pausing at her belly, brushing a kiss over the faint stretch marks with reverence. “You gave me everything,” she whispered.

Ling pulled her up, eyes glazed, cheeks flushed. “Not everything. Not yet.”

Then she rolled Orm over, straddling her thighs, her lips brushing against Orm’s. “Let me make you feel like I do.”

Orm couldn’t speak—just nodded, hands gripping her hips as Ling slowly slid down, kissed her collarbone, her chest, her stomach. Her mouth found Orm’s center with ease, and when her tongue touched her, Orm cried out.

Ling didn’t rush. She knew exactly how to undo her—slow strokes, deep pressure, teasing flicks that sent Orm’s body arching off the bed. Orm’s hands trembled in her hair, her thighs shaking, breaths turning shallow and frantic.

“Ling—I’m—”

“I know,” Ling whispered, holding her steady, grounding her.

Orm shattered, her body bucking, tears stinging her eyes as pleasure ripped through her like a wave she couldn’t outrun. Ling held her through it, her touch never faltering, her name on Orm’s lips the only sound in the dark.

They collapsed into each other afterward, tangled and breathless, bodies slick and glowing with heat and sweat.

Ling kissed her softly, gently, and whispered, “We needed that.”

Orm nodded, stroking her wife’s hair. “More than anything.”

They lay there for a long while, wrapped in silence and each other. The only sound was the faint rustle of the baby monitor on the nightstand—where Araya and Kawin were sound asleep, their tiny forms snuggled close even in their dreams.

Orm turned her head, eyes softening as she watched the screen.

“Look,” she whispered. “They’re trying to reach for each other again.”

Ling smiled, curling closer. “They’re just like us.”

Orm kissed her forehead, her heart overflowing. “We made them. We made this.”

Ling brushed her nose against Orm’s. “And I’d do it all again.”

Orm kissed her—slow, sweet, full of gratitude. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” Ling whispered back.

They drifted off, tangled together, heartbeats aligned with the two tiny souls just a room away.

A family. Forever.