Zayden's POV
You'd think learning you're going to be a father of twins would hit gradually—like an unfolding sunrise.
Nope.
It hit me like a semi-truck.
Twins.
That meant Elena wasn't just carrying one miracle.
She was carrying two.
And suddenly, the world around her became one giant hazard zone.
"Zayden," Elena groaned as I yanked the kitchen stool out behind her. "I'm pregnant, not paralyzed."
"Exactly," I said, placing a plush cushion behind her back. "You're pregnant—with twins. That's double the precious cargo. Sit."
She huffed but let me slide the stool under her. I crouched down and strapped her slippers tighter.
"Yes, because God forbid your slipper slides and you slip and fall," I muttered, pulling her blanket up over her lap. "We need non-slip everything now. I ordered socks with rubber grips in five colors."
"You're acting like I'm made of glass."
"No," I said seriously, brushing a stray hair from her face. "You're made of everything I never want to lose."
Her expression softened, and I saw that familiar flicker of emotion in her eyes—right before she rolled them.
"You're ridiculous," she whispered fondly.
That afternoon, I refused to let her carry anything heavier than a spoon. When she reached up to grab a cereal box from the top shelf, I replaced every item she could possibly need at eye level. I even created a 'Pregnancy Shelf.'
I deleted all the spicy food delivery apps from her phone.
I installed pregnancy pillows on every surface she liked to nap on.
I even made laminated meal charts for balanced nutrition. And yes, I color-coded them.
---
Later that night
Elena sat cross-legged on the bed, flipping through a parenting book as I gently massaged her feet with lavender oil.
"You're being weird," she said.
"I'm being smart." I kissed her knee. "We're having two babies. Two. Do you know how much your body is doing right now? You're growing organs—for strangers. You're the most powerful person I know."
She raised an eyebrow. "So you won't let the 'most powerful person you know' walk up the stairs?"
"Not unless I build you an elevator first," I said without blinking.
Elena laughed, tossing a pillow at me.
"You're going to drive me crazy."
"I'm already there," I smirked. "Madly. For you. For them."
Her hand moved to her belly, eyes misty. "You're going to be the best dad."
I kissed her hand, then pressed my lips against her bump. "I just need you safe, sunshine. That's all I want."
As the babies kicked gently beneath my hand, I whispered to them, "Don't worry, my little warriors. I've got your mom wrapped in a bubble."
Elena chuckled. "You mean a prison of fuzzy socks and zero spice."
"Exactly."
And when she drifted off to sleep that night, curled up safe and glowing with life, I lay beside her with one hand protectively over her belly and the other curled around her shoulder—vowing I'd do this for a thousand days and more.
Because they were ours.
And I would never stop protecting them.