krown

A/N: I wrote this at least a month ago. I forgot to make a banner/header thing for it, so I'll do that when I post part two. In honor of Azzi being the cutest ever with Shemar Moore's daughter, and Paige starting at her with insane heart eyes, I give you "The Dream". I hope you love it! xx Elle

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The FaceTime screen glowed in the darkness of Azzi's bedroom, casting her face in soft blue light. It was 2:47 AM according to the timestamp in the corner, but neither of them had mentioned sleep yet. On the other end, Paige was bundled under her comforter, her blonde hair messy and falling across her shoulders, her eyes bright despite the late hour.

"You're going to get in trouble," Paige whispered, though there was no real concern in her voice – just the familiar teasing that came with late-night calls they'd been having for months now.

"My parents are asleep," Azzi replied, equally quiet, as if volume mattered through a screen. She adjusted her phone against her pillow, getting more comfortable. "And you're one to talk. Don't you have to be up earlier than me?"

"We're still an hour behind, so it won't be that bad." Paige said, biting her lip. "Besides, I'm not tired. I wanna talk to you."

There was something about the way she said it, the slight vulnerability underneath the confidence, that made Azzi's stomach flip. They'd been doing this for a while now, these late-night calls where the rest of the world fell away and it was just the two of them. But tonight felt different. Tonight, Azzi could feel something shifting between them, something bigger than the usual conversations about basketball and school and the people around them who didn't quite understand.

"I've been thinking about something," Paige said, her eyes dropping to her comforter for a moment before finding Azzi's again. "And I don't know if this is weird to say, but... I want to say it to you."

Azzi's heart rate picked up. "Okay," she said softly. "Tell me."

Paige took a breath, and Azzi watched as a blush crept up her neck, spreading across her cheeks. It was beautiful – the way Paige looked when she was nervous but determined. "I think about the future a lot," she started. "Like, our future. Not just... you know, the next game or the next season. But like, actually our future."

"Me too," Azzi admitted, her own cheeks warming.

"I want..." Paige paused, seeming to gather courage. "I want to marry you first. Like, actually marry you. And I want us to go to the same college – I don't care where, as long as it's together. And I want us to win championships. Like, a lot of them. Three, maybe? I want us to be unstoppable together on the court." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice getting softer but more certain. "And then I want us to both go number one in the draft. I want the world to know how good we are, how good we are together. And after all of that – after we've built our careers and proven ourselves and lived that dream – then I want kids with you. Late twenties, early thirties, you know? When we're ready to step back and focus on us and our family." She laughed nervously, but her eyes were steady on Azzi's. "I want to do all of it with you. Everything. Is that crazy?"

Azzi felt her breath catch. She'd thought about it too, more than she probably should have at fifteen. But hearing Paige say it out loud, seeing the hope and vulnerability in her eyes, made it feel real in a way it hadn't before.

"No," Azzi said, her voice steady despite the trembling in her chest. "It's not crazy. I want that too."

Paige's face transformed, relief and joy flooding her features. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Azzi confirmed. "I want to spend forever with you. I want," she trailed off, trying to find the words for the images that had been living in her head. "I want to build something with you. A life. A real one."

"Tell me what you see," Paige said, and there was something almost reverent in her tone. "When you think about it."

Azzi closed her eyes for a moment, letting the vision come into focus. When she opened them again, Paige was watching her intently, waiting.

"I see a house," Azzi began slowly. "Somewhere quiet. Somewhere we can just... be. I'm thinking Minnesota, maybe? Somewhere with space and trees and a lake or something. Somewhere that feels like home." She paused, watching Paige's expression soften. "And I see us there, but not just us. I see kids running around. Our kids. I see you and me, older, retired from all of this – " she gestured vaguely at the basketball world that consumed so much of their lives, " – and just living. Being a family."

"How many kids?" Paige asked, her voice dreamy.

"I don't know," Azzi said. "Three? Enough that the house is full of noise and chaos and life. Enough that we're busy and tired and completely happy." She felt her own blush deepen. "I see us raising them together. Teaching them things. Watching them grow up. And then it's just us again, but different. Better, because we built something good."

Paige was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion. "That's exactly what I see too. Except I also see you in the kitchen making breakfast, and I see me reading on the porch, and I see our kids coming to find us because they want to tell us about something they discovered." She laughed softly. "And I see us being so in love that we can't believe we actually got to have this."

Azzi felt tears prick her eyes. "We're going to have it," she said with certainty. "We're going to have all of it."

"How do you know?" Paige asked, but she was smiling, that beautiful smile that made Azzi feel like she could do anything.

"Because we're going to make it happen," Azzi said simply. "We're going to work for it and fight for it and build it together. And the world is so big, Paige. There's so much we can do, so much we can have. We can have this dream and everything else too."

Paige's eyes were shining now, and Azzi realized she was crying too – happy tears, the kind that came from hope and possibility and the overwhelming feeling of being truly seen by another person.

"I love you," Paige whispered. "I know we haven't really said it like that yet, but I do. I love you, and I want all of that with you. The house in Minnesota and the kids and the chaos and the quiet moments. All of it."

Azzi's breath caught. They'd been dancing around it for months, but hearing it said out loud, with such certainty and tenderness, felt like everything clicking into place.

"I love you too," she said, and it felt like a promise. "I'm going to spend my whole life loving you."

On the screen, Paige reached out as if she could touch her through the phone, and Azzi did the same, their fingertips meeting the glass in a gesture that felt sacred somehow.

"We're going to have the most beautiful life," Paige said.

And in the darkness of her bedroom, with the glow of the FaceTime screen illuminating her face, Azzi believed it completely. The whole world was ahead of them, full of possibility and promise. And they were going to build it together.

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Six Years Later

The arena buzzed with pre-game energy, the kind of electric atmosphere that Azzi had grown to love during her college career. UConn was playing at home, and the stands were packed with families, students, and die-hard fans. Azzi stood near the tunnel, stretching her hamstrings and trying to focus on the game ahead, but her attention kept drifting to the crowd filtering in.

It was the beginning of their senior season – an exhibition game, technically, but it felt monumental anyway. Azzi was twenty-one now, academically a senior even though this was only her third year playing. And Paige, twenty-two, was finally back. After tearing her ACL last year and missing the entire season, she'd been cleared to play again just weeks ago. Everything they'd dreamed about on that FaceTime call when they were just kids – going to the same college, winning championships together, building their future side by side – had been derailed by injury and rehab and the agonizing wait to see if Paige would come back the same.

But she had. She was here. And tonight, they'd step onto the court together again.

Azzi rolled her shoulders and turned back toward the court when she heard it – Paige's laugh, bright and unrestrained, cutting through the ambient noise. She'd know that sound anywhere.

She looked up.

And her entire world tilted.

Paige was standing near the baseline, maybe twenty feet away, and she was holding a baby. Not just holding – cradling. A little boy, maybe eight or nine months old, with a shock of blonde hair and chubby cheeks. He was wearing a tiny UConn jersey, and Paige had him propped against her hip like she'd done it a thousand times before. She was bouncing slightly, that natural sway that seemed to come instinctively to some people, and the baby was giggling, reaching up to grab at her ponytail.

Paige's face was radiant. Completely unguarded. She was making silly faces at the baby, her nose scrunched up, her voice pitched high in that universal language of baby talk. The little boy shrieked with delight and Paige laughed again, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Azzi forgot how to breathe.

She'd seen Paige in every context imaginable over the past six years. Seen her exhausted after overtime games, seen her crying over injuries and celebrating championships, seen her first thing in the morning with pillow creases on her cheek and last thing at night when she was too tired to keep her eyes open. She'd seen Paige broken and determined through months of grueling rehab, seen her fight her way back from an injury that could have ended everything. She'd seen Paige in every possible light.

But this.

This was different.

This felt like looking through a window into the future they'd dreamed about, except it wasn't a dream anymore. It was real and tangible and right there. Paige looked so natural, so perfectly at ease, like she was made for this. The baby fit against her like he belonged there, and Paige's entire demeanor had shifted into something softer, more tender, more maternal than Azzi had ever seen.

Her chest ached with the force of it.

"That's my nephew," a voice said beside her, and Azzi startled. Morgan was standing there, smiling. "Charlie's kid. Paige has been obsessed with him since he was born. She's going to be an amazing mom someday, huh?"

Azzi couldn't form words. She just nodded, her throat tight.

Morgan walked away, and Azzi stood frozen, watching as Paige shifted the baby to her other hip. A woman, Charlie's wife, maybe, appeared and reached for the little boy, but Paige shook her head, clearly not ready to give him up yet. She was saying something that made the woman laugh, and then Paige was walking toward the stands, still bouncing the baby, still completely absorbed in him.

And then Paige looked up.

Their eyes met across the court.

For a moment, everything else fell away – the noise, the crowd, the impending game. It was just the two of them, and Paige's expression shifted. Her smile softened into something more intimate, more knowing. She'd caught Azzi staring, and from the look on her face, she knew exactly what Azzi was thinking.

Because Paige was thinking it too.

Azzi could see it in the way Paige's gaze dropped to the baby in her arms and then back up to Azzi. In the way her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn't across the distance. In the way her eyes held a question and an answer all at once.

This. This is what we want. This is what we're going to have.

Azzi's heart was pounding so hard she thought it might crack her ribs. She'd known, abstractly, that she wanted kids with Paige. They'd talked about it, planned for it, made it part of their shared vision. But knowing something and feeling it were two entirely different things.

And right now, watching Paige with that baby, Azzi felt it with a certainty that was almost frightening in its intensity.

She wanted this. She wanted to see Paige hold their baby like that. Wanted to watch her make silly faces and press kisses to tiny foreheads and be the kind of mother who made it look effortless even when it wasn't. She wanted to build that life they'd talked about – the chaos and the quiet moments and everything in between.

She wanted it so badly it hurt.

Paige handed the baby back to his mother, said something that made them both laugh, and then started walking toward Azzi. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were bright, almost feverish.

When she reached Azzi, she didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, close enough that their shoulders brushed.

"So," Paige finally said, her voice low and a little breathless. "That was Morgan's nephew."

"I heard," Azzi managed.

"He's cute, right?"

"Yeah." Azzi swallowed hard. "Really cute."

Paige turned to look at her fully, and there was something vulnerable in her expression, something raw and exposed. "I couldn't stop thinking about it," she admitted quietly. "The whole time I was holding him, I just kept thinking about us. About what you said that night. About having our own."

Azzi's breath caught. "Me too."

"It's not just a dream anymore, is it?" Paige's voice was barely above a whisper. "It feels real. Like I can actually see it now."

"I know." Azzi reached out, their fingers tangling together briefly before they had to pull apart – they were still in public, still had a game to play. But the touch was enough. A promise. A reminder. "I saw you with him and I just... I couldn't look away. You looked perfect, P."

Paige's eyes glistened with glee. "We're going to have this," she said, and it sounded like a vow. "Everything we talked about. We're going to make it real."

And standing there in the arena, with the noise of the crowd swelling around them and the game about to start, Azzi believed it with every fiber of her being. The future they'd dreamed about wasn't some distant, abstract thing anymore.

It was right there, waiting for them. And they were going to reach out and take it.

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Four Years Later

The smell of smoked brisket and mesquite hit them the moment they walked through the door of Hurtado's. It was Saturday evening, just after 6:30pm – they'd left the arena around six, still buzzing from the Wings' win, and made their way straight to their favorite spot in Dallas. The restaurant had that warm, lived-in feeling that made it perfect for a post-game dinner, especially with a kid in tow. Exposed brick walls, string lights overhead, the low hum of conversation mixing with old country music playing from the speakers. The dinner crowd was in full swing now, families scattered throughout, the kind of energy that made it feel welcoming rather than overwhelming.

Azzi was twenty-four now, in her second year with the Wings, coming off a Rookie of the Year season that still felt surreal. Paige was twenty-five, in her third year, making a strong push for MVP. They were living the life they'd mapped out as teenagers, except better, because they were doing it together. And tonight, they were doing something that felt both exciting and slightly nerve-wracking: having dinner with Delilah and her mom, Simone.

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Azzi saw a TikTok video of a little girl sobbing because she couldn't meet her after a game. Two weeks since she'd reached out to Simone and arranged floor seats, post-game court access, and an experience that had left Azzi feeling like something fundamental had shifted inside her chest. Two weeks of texting back and forth with Simone, of FaceTime calls where Delilah would shyly wave at the camera before hiding behind her mom.

But this was different. This wasn't the high-energy chaos of a game or the structured environment of an arena meet-and-greet. This was just dinner. Casual. Real. And Azzi found herself wondering if the connection would feel the same outside of all that excitement, or if maybe it had been a one-time thing, a moment that couldn't be replicated.

"There they are," Paige said, nodding toward the entrance.

Azzi's heart kicked up as she spotted them. Simone was holding Delilah's hand, guiding her through the crowd, and Delilah was scanning the restaurant with wide, searching eyes. And then she saw Azzi.

The transformation was instant. Delilah's entire face lit up, and she tugged free from Simone's grip, weaving through the tables with single-minded determination. "Azzi!"

Azzi barely had time to stand before Delilah crashed into her, wrapping her arms around Azzi's waist and squeezing tight. "Hey, baby girl," Azzi said, her voice catching slightly as she crouched down to Delilah's level. "I'm so glad you're here."

Delilah didn't say anything, just buried her face in Azzi's shoulder and held on like she was afraid Azzi might disappear.

Simone reached them a moment later, slightly breathless. "I'm so sorry – she's been talking about this all week. I think she was worried you wouldn't actually show up."

"Of course we showed up," Paige said warmly, stepping forward to hug Simone. "We've been looking forward to this."

"Me too." Simone's smile was genuine, but there was something tentative in her expression, like she was still trying to figure out if this was real. "Thank you for inviting us. You didn't have to – "

"We wanted to," Azzi said quickly, still holding Delilah. "Really."

They were seated in a corner booth, the kind with high backs that made it feel private even in a crowded restaurant. Delilah, predictably, refused to sit in her own seat. She climbed into Azzi's lap the moment they slid into the booth, curling up against her chest like she belonged there.

Simone looked apologetic. "Lilah, you need to sit in your own seat so Azzi can eat."

"It's okay," Azzi said quickly, adjusting so Delilah was settled more comfortably against her. "I really don't mind."

Paige slid into the booth across from them, and when her eyes met Azzi's, there was something soft and wondering in her gaze. Like she was seeing something she hadn't quite expected but couldn't look away from.

They ordered – brisket and ribs and mac and cheese, cornbread and coleslaw, sweet tea for everyone except Delilah, who got lemonade and was thrilled about it. The food came quickly, and the conversation started tentatively but gradually found its rhythm. Simone was warm and funny, and the initial awkwardness melted away as they talked about everything from basketball to Delilah's school to the best BBQ spots in Dallas.

"I have to say," Simone said, spearing a piece of brisket with her fork, "I've never seen her like this with anyone. Not even family." She gestured toward Delilah, who was still nestled in Azzi's lap, happily munching on cornbread. "She's usually so shy. But with you," she shook her head, smiling. "It's like she's known you her whole life."

Azzi felt her throat tighten. She looked down at Delilah, who had barbecue sauce smeared on her chin and was swinging her legs contentedly under the table. "She's special," Azzi said quietly. "Really special."

"She thinks you hung the moon," Simone said softly. "Both of you. She hasn't stopped talking about the game. You guys made her feel like she mattered."

"She does matter," Paige said, her voice firm. "Delilah matters a lot."

Delilah looked up at that, her dark eyes wide and serious. "Me?"

"Yeah, you," Paige said, reaching across the table to gently wipe Delilah's chin with a napkin. "You're pretty amazing, Lilah."

Delilah beamed, and then she turned to Azzi, her small hands coming up to frame Azzi's face. "Azzi, when I grow up, I wanna be just like you."

Azzi's breath caught. She didn't trust herself to speak for a moment, so she just pulled Delilah closer, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You're already pretty amazing just being you, baby girl."

Across the table, Paige was watching them. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were dark and intent, and Azzi knew that look. Knew what it meant. She'd seen it before – in quiet moments when they were alone, when Paige's hands were on her and her voice was low and rough with want. But this was different. This wasn't just desire. This was something deeper, something that made Azzi's entire body feel like it was on fire.

Paige was watching her hold Delilah, and she was imagining their own. Azzi could see it in the way Paige's gaze lingered on the little girl in her lap, the way her jaw tightened slightly, the way her fingers drummed against the table like she was trying to keep herself grounded.

Azzi felt it too. That pull. That ache. The overwhelming need to have this – not just borrowed for an evening, but theirs. A child who looked like them, who had Paige's smile and Azzi's eyes, who they could hold and love and raise together.

They'd been talking about it more seriously lately. Not just dreaming, but planning. Looking into options, researching clinics, having the hard conversations about timing and logistics and what their lives would look like. But sitting here, with Delilah curled up in her lap and Paige looking at her like that, Azzi felt the urgency of it settle deep in her bones.

She didn't want to wait anymore.

Dinner wound down slowly. Delilah eventually migrated to Paige's lap, chattering about school and her friends and the new bike she'd gotten for her birthday. Paige listened with the kind of patience and attention that made Azzi fall in love with her all over again, asking questions and laughing at Delilah's stories like they were the most important thing in the world.

When they finally walked out to the parking lot, Delilah clung to Azzi again, her arms wrapped tight around her neck. "I don't want you to go," she whispered.

"I know, baby. But we'll see you again soon, okay? I promise."

"Okay." Delilah pulled back just enough to look at her, her dark eyes serious. "You promise-promise?"

"Promise-promise."

Simone buckled Delilah into her car seat, and as she closed the door, Paige stepped closer to her, her voice low and earnest. "Hey, Simone? I know this was kind of spontaneous, but would you be okay if we made this a regular thing? Like, maybe once a month or something? I think Lilah really loves spending time with us, and honestly, we love spending time with her."

Simone's eyes widened slightly, and then her expression softened into something that looked like relief. "Are you serious?"

"Completely," Paige said. "I mean, only if you're comfortable with it. But yeah. We'd really like that."

"I – " Simone's voice cracked slightly. "That would be amazing. She would be over the moon. Thank you. Really."

They said their goodbyes – hugs and kisses and promises to text soon. And then it was just Azzi and Paige, standing in the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights, watching Simone's car pull away.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Paige turned to her, and the look in her eyes made Azzi's knees weak.

"I want that," Paige said, her voice low and rough. "I want to take our kid to dinner and watch you hold them like you hold her. I want to see you be a mom, Az. I want it so fucking bad I can barely breathe."

Azzi's heart was pounding. "Me too."

"Then let's do it." Paige stepped closer, her hand coming up to cup Azzi's cheek. "Let's stop talking about it and actually do it. I'm ready. Are you?"

Azzi didn't even have to think about it. "Yeah," she whispered. "I'm ready."

Paige's smile was slow and devastating. "Good," she said. And then, quieter, almost reverent: "We're gonna make the most beautiful babies, Azzi Fudd."

Azzi laughed, but it came out shaky, overwhelmed. "Yeah," she said again. "We are."

They stood there for another moment, the promise of everything hanging between them, tangible and real. And then Paige kissed her, soft and sweet and full of all the things they didn't need to say out loud.

They were going to do this. They were going to build the family they'd dreamed about since they were teenagers. And it was going to be everything.

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Eleven Months Later

Except it wasn't everything.

It was needles and hormones and waiting rooms with fluorescent lights that made everything feel sterile and cold. It was Paige's eggs retrieved and fertilized, transferred into a surrogate who was kind and patient and everything they could have asked for. It was hope – so much hope it felt like drowning – and then it was nothing.

The first cycle failed on a Tuesday. Azzi was in the middle of practice when the call came through. She'd stepped into the hallway, her hands shaking as she answered, and the doctor's voice had been gentle but final. I'm so sorry. The test came back negative.

Paige had flown in from a shoot that night. They'd held each other in their bedroom and cried, but there was still hope. It's okay, Paige had whispered. We'll try again. This happens. It's normal.

The second cycle failed six weeks later. This time, Paige was the one who got the call. She'd been sitting in her car outside the arena, staring at her phone, and when the doctor said the words – negative, I'm sorry – she'd felt something crack inside her chest. But they rallied. They had to. We knew this might take a few tries, their fertility specialist had said. Don't lose hope yet.

The third cycle failed in January. By then, the hope had started to feel fragile, like something they were holding too tightly, afraid it might shatter. Their surrogate, Michelle, who was warm and steady and impossibly generous, had reassured them over FaceTime. I'm not giving up on you two. We're going to make this work. And they'd believed her. They had to believe her.

But the fourth cycle – the fourth one broke them.

It was March when they got the call. Azzi was home this time, sitting on the couch with Paige curled up beside her, both of them staring at Azzi's phone like it might explode. When it rang, Paige grabbed Azzi's hand so hard it hurt.

Azzi answered. Put it on speaker.

And then the doctor's voice, kind and apologetic and so fucking final.

I'm sorry. It's negative again.

Paige made a sound – something raw and broken – and Azzi felt the room tilt. She didn't remember ending the call. Didn't remember much of anything except the way Paige collapsed against her, sobbing so hard her whole body shook.

They'd been trying for almost a year. Four rounds of IVF. Four failures. And Azzi didn't know how to fix this. Didn't know how to make it okay.

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They met Michelle at a coffee shop two days later. It felt wrong, sitting across from her in a sunny corner booth, pretending like the world hadn't just caved in. Michelle looked tired – she'd been through this too, the hormones and the procedures and the waiting – and when she saw them, her face crumpled.

"I'm so sorry," she said before they could even sit down. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Don't," Paige said quickly, her voice hoarse. "Don't apologize. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I feel like I did." Michelle's eyes were red-rimmed. "I feel like I failed you."

Azzi's throat tightened. "You didn't fail us. You've been amazing. You've done everything right. This isn't – " Her voice cracked. "This isn't your fault."

"It's not yours either," Michelle said, reaching across the table to squeeze Azzi's hand. "You know that, right? This isn't anyone's fault. Sometimes it just... doesn't work."

Azzi nodded, but she didn't believe it. Not really. Because if it wasn't anyone's fault, then why did it feel like the universe was screaming at them to stop? Why did it feel like they were being punished for wanting something so badly?

They talked for another hour – about next steps, about whether Michelle was willing to try again, about what their options were. Michelle was kind and patient and said she'd do whatever they needed. But when they finally left, walking out into the bright afternoon sunlight, Azzi felt hollowed out.

"I don't know if I can do this again," Paige whispered as they sat in the car.

Azzi didn't answer. She didn't know either.

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The spiral started that night.

They were lying in bed, the room dark except for the faint glow of the streetlight outside. Paige was curled up against Azzi's side, her breathing uneven, and Azzi could feel the tension radiating off her in waves.

"Maybe we're not supposed to be parents," Paige said finally, her voice so quiet Azzi almost didn't hear it.

Azzi's chest tightened. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Paige sat up, her eyes glassy in the dim light. "Four times, Az. Four fucking times, and nothing. Maybe the God is trying to tell us something."

"God isn't try – "

"How do you know?" Paige's voice cracked. "How do you know this isn't a sign? That we're not meant to do this?"

Azzi didn't have an answer. Because the truth was, she'd been thinking the same thing. Late at night, when she couldn't sleep, when the weight of it all felt too heavy to carry – she'd wondered if maybe they should just stop. If maybe they were chasing something that was never meant to be theirs.

"I don't know," Azzi admitted, her voice breaking. "I don't know anything anymore."

Paige made a sound – something between a sob and a laugh – and then she was crying again, her face buried in her hands. Azzi pulled her close, holding her as tightly as she could, and they stayed like that for a long time. Two people who'd dreamed of building a family together, now wondering if that dream was ever going to come true.

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It was their fertility specialist who suggested reciprocal IVF.

They'd gone in for a follow-up appointment a week later, both of them exhausted and emotionally wrung out. Dr. Patel had listened to their concerns, nodding thoughtfully, and then she'd leaned forward, her expression gentle but determined.

"I know this has been incredibly difficult," she said. "But I want you to consider another option. Reciprocal IVF. Azzi, you'd carry Paige's eggs instead of using a surrogate."

Azzi blinked. "I – what?"

"It's not uncommon," Dr. Patel continued. "Sometimes, for reasons we don't fully understand, a different carrier can make all the difference. Paige's eggs are healthy. The embryos are viable. But Michelle's body, for whatever reason, isn't responding the way we'd hoped. Azzi, you're young, you're healthy, and your hormone levels are excellent. I think this could work."

Paige looked at Azzi, her eyes wide and uncertain. "Would you – I mean, do you want to?"

Azzi's heart was pounding. She hadn't considered this. Hadn't let herself think about carrying their baby because she'd been so focused on making the surrogacy work. But now, sitting here with Paige looking at her like she was afraid to hope –

"Yeah," Azzi said, her voice steady. "Yeah, I want to."

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The first round of reciprocal IVF felt different. There was a cautious optimism that hadn't been there before, a sense that maybe this was the path they were supposed to take all along. Azzi went through the prep – the hormones, the monitoring, the transfer – and Paige was with her every step of the way, holding her hand through the procedures, whispering reassurances when Azzi's anxiety spiked.

Two weeks later, Azzi took a pregnancy test.

She did it alone, early in the morning before Paige woke up. She couldn't explain why – maybe she wanted to protect Paige from another disappointment, or maybe she just needed a moment to process it herself first. She sat on the bathroom floor, the test in her hand, and waited.

One line.

Just one.

Azzi stared at it, her vision blurring, and then she was sobbing – ugly, gasping sobs that she tried to muffle with her hand. Because it wasn't just disappointment. It was shame. It was the crushing realization that maybe she wasn't good enough. That her body was failing them. That Paige's eggs were perfect, and Michelle had tried her best, and now Azzi had tried, and it still wasn't working.

What's wrong with me?

She didn't hear Paige come in. Didn't realize she was there until Paige was kneeling beside her, pulling her into her arms.

"Az, baby, what – " Paige's voice broke when she saw the test. "Oh, sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," Azzi choked out. "I'm so sorry. I thought – I thought I could do this, but I can't. My body won't – "

"Stop." Paige's voice was firm, her hands cupping Azzi's face. "Stop. This is not your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault."

"But – "

"No." Paige kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. "We're going to try again. Okay? We're going to keep trying. Because I love you, and I want this with you, and we're not giving up."

Azzi nodded, even though she didn't believe it. Even though she felt like she was drowning.

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The second round was harder. Azzi went through the motions – the shots, the appointments, the transfer – but she couldn't let herself hope. Couldn't let herself believe it would work. Paige tried to stay positive, but Azzi could see the fear in her eyes, the way she held her breath every time they talked about it.

Two weeks after the transfer, Azzi woke up early again. She didn't want to take the test. Didn't want to see another negative, didn't want to feel that crushing disappointment again. But she couldn't not know.

She took the test into the bathroom, her hands shaking, and set it on the counter. And then she waited.

One minute.

Two.

She looked down.

Two lines.

Dark. Immediate. Unmistakable.

Azzi's knees buckled. She grabbed the counter to steady herself, staring at the test like it might disappear if she looked away. And then she was laughing – or crying, she couldn't tell – and she grabbed the test and ran back to the bedroom.

Paige was still asleep, curled up on her side, her hair a mess on the pillow. Azzi climbed onto the bed, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst.

"Paige," she whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Paige, wake up."

Paige groaned, blinking up at her. "What – Az, what's wrong?"

Azzi held up the test, her hands trembling. "Look."

Paige stared at it. And then her eyes went wide, and she sat up so fast she almost knocked Azzi over. "Is that – "

"Two lines," Azzi said, her voice breaking. "It's positive."

Paige grabbed the test, staring at it like she couldn't believe it was real. And then she looked at Azzi, and her face crumpled, and she was crying – they both were – and Paige pulled her into her arms, holding her so tightly Azzi could barely breathe.

"We're having a baby," Paige whispered, her voice shaking. "We're really having a baby."

Azzi nodded, burying her face in Paige's neck. "We're having a baby."

And for the first time in months, the weight lifted. The fear and the doubt and the crushing sense of failure – it all fell away, replaced by something bright and overwhelming and impossibly real.

They were going to be moms.

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