Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 141

Chapter 141– Miexha POV

It only took one solo music video.
One.

I barely wrapped filming when fate—or more accurately, my husband—struck again.

I stared at the pregnancy test in my hand while my morning sickness spun my brain like a malfunctioning playlist.

The OB smiled that gentle smile I’d come to dread.
“Congratulations, you’re pregnant again.”

Of course I am.

Xiejay had just turned one. Shellie was still clinging to her sippy cup. Jamie, now eight, had started eyeing me with suspicion—like I was some mythical fertility goddess brought to Earth to repopulate a kingdom.

And Jayson?

Thriving.

Glowing like he was on a personal skincare sponsorship. While I waddled around in nausea, he somehow looked even more like a high-definition fantasy. Firmer biceps. Brighter smile. Styled hair that defied humidity and logic.

“Baby number four!”
He announced it to the staff at breakfast like it was an election win.

I nearly launched my cereal spoon at his flawless face.

My fans? Barely discussing my music comeback. They were more invested in the Dom Family Expansion Plan. Even Jayson’s political base was split between economic reforms and tracking how many heirs we could pop out per year.

Because now… we were running for mayor.

Jayson Dom. The youngest candidate in Capital City history. Future president, if his father’s long-term strategy plays out.

“Start with the city. Learn the pulse. Don’t touch national crises until you’ve mastered potholes and parades,” his father said.

So here we are.

Pregnant again. Campaigning again. Solo music career... paused. Again.

Sometimes I think back to those six years apart.
If we hadn’t separated?

At this rate, we’d have a full football team.

I love my children.
But I am not a royal womb.

Operation Birth Control must begin soon. Quietly. Strategically. Before my uterus files for protest.

---

And of course, when a woman suffers, she calls her best friend.

“Do you know how unfair you are, Ofreigha?”
I groaned as we clinked smoothie glasses under the balcony’s golden afternoon light.

“One boy,” I said, holding up a finger.
“Just one. Meanwhile, I’m out here manufacturing limited-edition collectible babies like it’s a seasonal event.”

Ofreigha laughed, flipping her glam curls.
“Hey, I just don't want to ruin my curves and…”
She gave me a cheeky look and subtly gestured to her generous chest.

I rolled my eyes.
“Don’t remind me. After three births, I still haven’t upgraded in that department. If I ever write my autobiography, it’ll be called: Flat and Fertile.”

She choked on her drink, wheezing.

We looked out to the garden, where our children played under the late sun.

Jamie—age eight—was directing everyone like a mini queen.
Aurelei held Shellie’s hand like a gentle knight.
And Xiejay…

…my adorable, screaming, table-climbing wildling.