𝙻𝚎𝚐𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝙱𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚃𝚘 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙹𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝙳𝚘𝚗🇯🇲

065

MONDAY ,038:20pm
REDHILLS MOUNTAIN | KINGSTON JAMAICA

A soft whimper pulled me from sleep, followed by a tiny stretch pressing against my side. Blinking my eyes open, I found my twin boys curled up against me, their little faces peaceful, their chests rising and falling in perfect sync.

I exhaled softly, brushing my fingers through their soft curls. Mornings like this made everything feel right, even when my world was still unsteady. But as I turned to grab my phone from the nightstand, my eyes landed on the calendar.

Two weeks had already pass.

A deep pit settled in my stomach. Their first vaccinations.

I swallowed hard, carefully sliding out of bed without waking them. As much as I hated the thought of my babies crying in pain, this was something that had to be done. I moved quickly, grabbing their diaper bag and stuffing it with everything they might need diapers, wipes, bottles, blankets, and their favorite plush toys.

As I zipped the bag, I heard a low, groggy voice behind me.

"Wah yah do?"

I turned to see Chris shifting under the covers, his voice thick with sleep. He rubbed his eyes before looking at me properly.

"The twins have dem check up todeh ," I murmured. "Them first injection."

Chris blinked a few times, then sat up, his expression unreadable. "Me will carry yuh."

I glanced at him, surprised. "You nuh affi do—"

"No, me want to ," he said firmly, swinging his legs off the bed. "Remember seh we a do dis together."

Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten, but I nodded. No arguments today.

Chris stood and stretched before leaning over to press a kiss on one of the twins' foreheads. "Alright, likkle  man. Time fi come get ready."

Our son scrunched up his nose in protest, while his brother let out a tiny yawn and buried his face against the pillow.

"Dem ago be well vex today enuh ," I sighed, gently stroking one of their backs.

Chris smirked. "Better dem start vex up from now that when dem turn inna big man . At least dem nah guh remember this."

I wished I could believe that, but the thought of them crying still made my heart ache.

Together, we started getting them dressed, but the twins were not having it. The moment we tried changing their clothes, they whined, wiggled, and kicked their little legs in protest. One of them dramatically pouted, while the other made frustrated little grunts, making both Chris and me laugh.

"Look pon dem too ," I giggled. "A gwan like we a do dem nothing, just the simple clothes me a put on and dem a gwan suh."

Chris chuckled as he struggled to put a tiny shoe on one of them. "If a suh dem a gwan now, imagine when dem actually get to the clinic."

I sighed. I didn't even want to think about it.

Chris drove us to the clinic, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting protectively on my thigh. It was a small, simple gesture, but I didn't push him away. My nerves were already eating at me, and I needed any comfort I could get.

When we arrived, he stepped out first, adjusting his pants  before coming around to my side of the car. "Come, me will carry dem ," he said, taking both baby carrier basket  in his arms effortlessly.

I exhaled slowly as we walked inside, but the moment I stepped into the waiting room, my anxiety worsened.

The sharp cries of other babies filled the air, making my heart clench. I glanced down at my boys, both of them wide eyed, completely unaware of what was coming. Their tiny fingers curled up , their soft faces so pure, so perfect.

What if the pain was too much for them? What if they hated me for letting it happen?

Chris must have noticed my hesitation because he nudged me gently. "Zuri," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "Dem ago be alright . A just one likkle pinch."

I swallowed hard and nodded, even though my chest felt heavy.

Then, the nurse called their names.

Chris squeezed my hand as we walked into the exam room. I barely noticed the doctor explaining the procedure. My focus was on my babies the way their little legs kicked as Chris placed them gently on the exam table, the way their big eyes looked around curiously.

Then the first injection came.

A sharp, heartbreaking wail filled the air.

Tears stung my eyes as I watched my son's face scrunch up in pain, his little fists shaking as he cried.

I broke.

A sob slipped past my lips, and my knees felt weak. Chris immediately pulled me into his side, his grip firm and steady as he held my hand tightly. "Everything good baby ," he murmured, his voice calm. "Dem alright see, dem soon stop bawl."

I buried my face in his shoulder as our other son got his injection next, his cries piercing through me. I wanted to take their pain away, to hold them, to tell them I was sorry.

The moment it was over, Chris handed me one of the boys while he cradled the other, rocking him gently. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

I held my son close, my own tears falling as I kissed his damp cheeks. "Hush yah papi," I whispered.

Chris looked at me, his eyes filled with something soft, something deep. He reached up, brushing away one of my tears. "See? Dem stop bawling already ," he said.

I looked down at them. He was right. Their cries were fading into small sniffles, their tiny bodies relaxing against us.

Chris smiled.

And for the first time in a long time, I actually believed a word he said.

After we left the clinic, I held one of the twins while Chris carried the other in the baby carrier. As we walked, I couldn't help but watch him, my gaze fixed on him with a deep sense of awe.

There was something in the way he held our son, the care in his every movement, that made my heart swell. I felt calm. The weight of everything I'd doubted about him before seemed to lift, and a quiet realization settled in my chest. I regretted the words I'd said the last time we'd truly talked. Seeing him right here, doing everything he could for our family, I couldn't help but soften. Maybe I hadn't given him enough credit.