In Love With Ms. Manoban

Part 55

(Double Update. I just published Part 54.)

The first week home was a blur of soft cries, warm bottles, diaper changes, and too little sleep. Lisa had read that life with newborn twins would be overwhelming, and she had believed it. But she hadn't expected the kind of exhaustion that made her forget what day it was or if she'd eaten lunch. Still, somehow, despite the fog and fatigue, there was joy. So much joy.

Jeremiah was a constant. If Lisa was the heart of their little family, he was its backbone, steady, strong, always present. It made Lisa realise that she could not have done this without Jeremiah. He has been her rock. 

In the early hours of the morning, when the twins seemed to take turns crying, Jeremiah would pace the floor with Seren nestled against his shoulder while Lisa rocked Sora, humming lullabies with dry lips and tired eyes.

"She grunts like you when she stretches," Lisa murmured one morning, watching Seren wrinkle her nose in her sleep.

"Uh oh. We've got a daddy's girl on our hands," Jeremiah grinned, kissing the top of Seren's head. "We're raising a household of queens." Lisa laughed softly, her heart swelling, and she leaned her head on the back of the rocking chair to admire her husband.

Their days took on a rhythm, even if it changed every few hours. Feedings, naps, baths, laundry that never seemed to end, bottles that filled the sink and drying rack like an army. But in the little gaps between chaos, there were golden minutes. Like when both girls slept at once, and Lisa and Jeremiah collapsed on the couch together, a bowl of cereal between them and old movies playing in the background. Or when Sora smiled in her sleep for the first time and Jeremiah nearly cried again, overwhelmed.

"This is the life I didn't know I was waiting for," he whispered to Lisa one night, brushing a curl from her forehead as she lay half-asleep on his chest. She smiled without opening her eyes. 

"Me too."

....

Later that night, Lisa sat curled on the couch, one of Seren's socks tucked between her fingers, her hair messy from sleep.

Jeremiah padded in from the nursery, shirt wrinkled, a burp cloth tossed over his shoulder, and Sora asleep against his chest like a tiny koala. He moved slowly, like the moment might shatter if he made too much noise.

"She's out," he whispered, easing down beside Lisa.

"You're magic," she whispered back.

"I prefer 'legendary,' but I'll take magic." Lisa leaned her head on his shoulder with a smile and peered down at Sora. 

"Look at her little fist. She's already claiming territory." Lisa chuckled.

They sat there in the hush, the only sounds the distant drip of rain from the gutters and the soft rustle of Seren shifting in the bassinet nearby. Lisa sighed, content. Exhausted, but content.

"Did you ever think it would feel like this?" she asked. He glanced at her. 

"Like what?"

"Like... life slowed down but got bigger at the same time."

"Yeah. Every bottle, every diaper, every 3 a.m. cry, it's like it all matters in a way nothing else ever has." Jeremiah's smile faltered. "I know I didn't give them life, but I'll give them everything else. Every ounce I've got." Lisa blinked back sudden tears and reached for his hand. He held hers tightly.

"I hope," she whispered, "they grow up and fall in love with someone just like you, Jerry."

"If they're lucky, they'll grow up strong. Kind. Brave. Just like their mom." Jeremiah leaned in and kissed her gently.

A soft cry came from the bassinet. Seren, beginning to stir. Lisa rose slowly, stretching her back. 

"Alright, little star, I've got you." As she scooped Seren into her arms and began rocking her, Jeremiah leaned back on the couch, watching the three of them, his girls.

It was a simple day. The kind of day that made you forget the world could ever shift beneath your feet.

....

One Tuesday afternoon, the house was finally quiet. Both babies had fallen asleep at the same time, which was a rare miracle. Lisa was in the nursery, gently tidying things up, while Jeremiah handled the mountain of clothes in the laundry room. The sunlight filtered through the windows, golden and warm. A breeze stirred the white curtains. Lisa picked up Seren's soft toy bunny and tucked it beside her in the crib before heading downstairs.

Everything felt still. Peaceful. Whole.

A knock shattered that peace.

It was hard. Unexpected. Not like the soft delivery knocks they'd gotten used to. Lisa froze in the laundry room doorway, her breath catching in her throat and heart speeding up. Jeremiah looked up from the washing machine. 

"You expecting someone?"

"No." She shook her head slowly. He dried his hands on a towel and moved toward the front door. 

"It's probably a neighbor."

But Lisa was already following him, a strange tightness pulling at her chest. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air, like a change in pressure before a storm.

Jeremiah opened the door. The man standing there was tall. Familiar. Dressed in black with a worn leather jacket. He hadn't changed much. His hair was still unkempt, though there were lines on his face now that hadn't been there before.

Lisa's stomach turned to ice.

"...Jonathan," she whispered. The man's eyes landed on Lisa, and he gave a short nod. Jeremiah stepped instinctively in front of his wife.  

"What do you want?" His voice dropped an octave.

"I want to see my daughters." Jonathan's jaw tightened. Lisa made a sharp, strangled sound that was something between a gasp and a whisper. Jeremiah's body stiffened. 

"Excuse me?"

"I know about the twins. I know you gave birth," Jonathan said, eyes still locked on Lisa. "I told you I'll be back, Lisa. You still haven't learned to believe my words." Lisa staggered back a step, one hand on her chest. 

"You left," she said, her voice shaking. "You knew I was pregnant and you left. You didn't call, didn't check in, didn't care. They are not your daughters."

"I panicked," he said. "I wasn't ready. But I've had time to think." Jeremiah took a step forward, shielding her. 

"And you think showing up unannounced and unwanted gives you the right to anything?"

"They're mine." Jonathan's eyes flared.

"They're not." Jeremiah's voice dropped to a lethal calm. "You lost that right when you walked away. I was there when they were born. Matter of fact, I was there even before that. I held them. I stayed up every night. I changed the diapers and built the cribs and wiped every tear."

Jonathan looked like he was about to speak, but then—

Lisa made a small sound behind them. Jeremiah turned just in time to see her sway.

"Lisa—!" Her eyes rolled back, and her knees buckled. He caught her just before she hit the floor, cradling her gently, his heart hammering against his ribs.

"Lisa? Hey, hey—stay with me." His voice was urgent but soft, the way he always was with her. He brushed her hair from her face. "It's okay. I've got you. I've always got you."

From the doorway, Jonathan just stood frozen, watching.

Jeremiah didn't even look up.

He only held Lisa tighter.

THE END.