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Toronto, Canada Home
The scent of maple syrup and cinnamon filled the kitchen, cozy and thick with comfort. The kind of smell that said home— not hotel suites or tour buses or quick takeout in the backseat with sleeping kids. Just home.
Jasmine stood barefoot at the stove, flipping pancakes while Aaliyah bounced in her bouncer nearby, cheeks dimpled, hands flailing. Adonis zoomed a toy car across the kitchen island, narrating a full race in his best announcer voice. The house buzzed with life again. Not the lights-and-cameras kind. The real kind.
Aubrey came around the corner still in sweats, eyes soft with sleep and love. He wrapped his arms around Jasmine's waist from behind, resting one warm hand over her stomach.
"You shouldn't be on your feet." he murmured into her neck.
"It's pancakes, not heavy lifting." Jas said, smiling as she flipped another.
"The best reason to stay off your feet now is that we're home. Let me take care of you." Aubrey plead
"You already do." She pointed out
He kissed the curve where her neck met her shoulder and let his hand linger on her belly.
"You sure you're feeling okay?" he asked.
She turned to face him, the spatula still in her hand.
"I'm okay, Aubrey. Nauseous and hormonal, but okay."
He glanced over at Aaliyah, then at Adonis. "I can't believe we're doing this again."
Jas smiled and kissed his cheek. "Me neither."
He went over to scoop Aaliyah into his arms, peppering her face in kisses while she squealed in delight. "Good morning, Mama's twin."
Jas slid a plate in front of Adonis. "Here you go, Donis."
He grinned. "Can I have syrup in the shape of a race car?"
"I'm not a magician, baby." Jasmine shook her head
"You're pretty close though," Aubrey said, settling beside them. "Best cook. Best mama. Best everything."
Jas laughed and sat down at the table.
She didn't want to think about what the rest of the day held — not yet. Not while the kitchen was filled with baby babble and soft music and her husband watching her like she was the only thing worth watching. But the nerves crept in anyway.
Sandi was coming for lunch.
The house was spotless.
Not just clean — intentional. Jasmine wiped down every surface twice. The table was set with their best dishes. Cloth napkins. A centerpiece with fresh eucalyptus and white roses. The smell of slow-roasted chicken, garlic butter salmon, seasoned vegetables, and jasmine rice wrapped the whole home in warmth. Dessert was chilling in the fridge. Aaliyah napped upstairs. Adonis played quietly in the living room. And Jasmine stood in the kitchen, smoothing down her dress, trying to steady the way her stomach churned.
