Chapter 158 – Arya POV
Bibs, Belly, and Baby Chaos
I had barely stepped out of the car when I heard Amara shouting from inside the house.
"If someone doesn't bring me that damn apple juice in the next ten seconds, I'm going to cry and throw this pillow!"
Ah. Perfectly normal.
I walked up the steps, rang the bell, and waited. The door swung open a second later, and a very tired-looking Ethan greeted me.
"She's in nesting mode," he muttered.
I stifled a laugh. "Is it too late to turn back?"
He shook his head with a sigh. "You're family. You're stuck."
As soon as I entered, Amara's voice floated in from the living room. "Is that Arya? Tell her to bring food. I need crabs!"
I set my bag down and walked in to find her sprawled on the couch in oversized pajamas that said "FEED ME AND TELL ME I'M PRETTY." Her belly was… wow. Even bigger than I remembered.
"Whoa," I said with a smile. "You're carrying a planet."
She threw a cushion at me. "Don't you start."
"I meant it in the most beautiful way. You're glowing."
"I'm glowing because I'm sweating from walking to the fridge and back," she deadpanned. "Now come hug me before I melt."
I leaned in carefully, giving her a gentle squeeze, avoiding the belly that seemed to have a gravitational pull of its own.
"Ready to shop?" I asked.
She groaned dramatically. "Not mentally. But yes. We need baby clothes. And I need fresh air."
"And apple juice?"
"And apple juice," she said solemnly.
---
One hour later, we were waddling—okay, I was walking, she was waddling—through the aisles of a fancy baby boutique. It had pastel walls, soft lullaby music playing, and more options than any first-time mom could possibly know what to do with.
"Why are there eight kinds of bottles?" she whispered, wide-eyed.
"Because new moms panic," I replied. "And companies profit."
She picked up a tiny onesie and gasped. "Look at this! It says 'Future CEO'! That's totally your influence."
"I'll take credit," I said, chuckling. "So, CEO for Baby A or B?"
She blinked. "Oh god. I'm having two of them."
"Yes, you are. And they're going to be adorable."
She clutched the onesie to her chest. "I'm scared, Arya."
I softened. "That's normal. But you're not alone. You've got me. You've got Damon. You've got Ethan."
"Who still smells like cologne even when he doesn't wear it," she muttered.
I laughed. "He told me you kicked him out of the bedroom."
"I did not kick! I politely informed him I was going to puke if he breathed near me."
"Very polite."
She huffed. "Okay fine, it might have been dramatic. But hormones, Arya. You don't understand. They're evil."
We moved to the stroller section, where she stared at a three-in-one travel system like it was a spaceship.
"I don't even know what half of this stuff does," she whispered.
"That's what I'm here for," I said. "And the internet. And maybe your mother-in-law."
She gave me a look. "Have you met Ethan's mother?"
I laughed. "Fair."
After twenty minutes of browsing and arguing over which colors would suit twins of unknown gender ("Neutral is boring!" "We don't know their gender yet!"), we finally sat down on a bench to catch our breath.
Amara pulled a pack of crackers from her purse like a squirrel preparing for winter and started munching.
"I'm like… always hungry now," she mumbled between bites. "Is that normal?"
"Yes," I said. "You're eating for three."
She sighed. "I feel like I'm failing at everything. I cry all the time, my ankles are fat, I made Ethan cry last week because I told him his pancakes were dry—"
I reached over and took her hand.
"Listen to me. You are not failing. You're growing two humans. That's a full-time miracle. And you're allowed to cry. And complain. And eat twelve muffins in one sitting."
She sniffed. "It was only nine."
"Even better."
She wiped her eyes, then suddenly her face brightened. "Can you feel them?"
I blinked. "What?"
"The babies. They're moving. Here—" She grabbed my hand and placed it on her belly.
For a second, nothing.
Then a little nudge.
I gasped. "That was—"
"Baby A, I think," she whispered, eyes wide with awe. "They've been more active lately."
A second, stronger kick followed, and we both burst into giggles like kids.
"That's so weird. And amazing," I breathed.
"I know. Sometimes I just lay awake at night and poke my belly just to feel them."
"Poor Ethan."
"Oh, he's banned from the room until the babies are born," she said airily.
I snorted. "You're lucky he loves you."
"I know," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips. "And I love him. Even if his breath smells like toothpaste and I want to punch him for it."
"That's true love."
We finished shopping and headed back to the car, loaded with bags full of onesies, diapers, booties, and baby lotion that didn't smell like anything offensive.
As I helped her settle into the seat, she looked up at me.
"Thanks, Arya."
"For what?"
"For being here. For keeping me sane. For not running the second I started crying over donut flavors."
I grinned and buckled her seatbelt. "You're stuck with me. Just like I'm stuck with you."
"Forever?"
"Forever."
She smiled, leaning back as the twins kicked again. "I hope they're just like you. Calm. Steady."
"God no," I said, laughing. "They're going to be chaos. Like their mom."
She raised a brow. "Hey."
I winked. "The best kind of chaos."