#life changes

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The mission’s long over, but you’re still at the base, running end-of-day reports while Tara complains about paperwork, Rose pokes at the vending machine, and Lara’s being overly generous with ginger tea distribution.

She walks up to your desk just as your stomach turns for the third time that today.

You blink at her, glance down at the steaming mug she sets near your elbow, and then everything lurches. You’re out of your seat in a heartbeat, bolting toward the office bathroom.

You barely make it in time.

Your knees hit the tile as you grip the sides of the toilet, gagging. It’s awful. And loud. You hear the door creak open behind you—soft steps.

A familiar hand gathers your hair.

Rose.

She doesn’t say anything at first, just holds your hair and rubs a slow, grounding line between your shoulder blades.

“You’ve been off for a while,” she murmurs. “You should probably get it checked.”

“I’m fine,” you croak, flushing the toilet and leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. “Probably something I caught on the trip.”

Footsteps creak in the hallway. Lara’s voice floats in. “Even if it’s just the flu, better safe than sorry.”

You don’t even lift your head. “Not you too.”

Tara leans in against the door frame, sipping from a coffee can. “You know your husband’s gonna check you anyway, right? If he see you, it’s over.”

You sigh, dragging your hand down your face.

Rose offers her hand and helps you up. You rinse your mouth, wash your hands, wipe the sweat off your forehead.

Then she says it, too casually.

“Speaking of the trip… are you sure you caught something from there and not brought something back instead?”

You blink. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

She just raises an eyebrow, glancing from your eyes to your stomach and back again.

You frown. “What—”

Your voice cuts off as your own eyes widen.

Tara’s the one who gasps. “Oh my god. Are you pregnant?!”

“What?! No! I’m on pills!”

Rose’s tone is maddeningly calm. “It’s not a hundred percent, sis.”

“And wasn’t the trip for your ten-year wedding anniversary?” Lara adds, too amused. “I doubt you two were holding back.”

You rub your forehead. “This is not happening. We weren’t planning to try again for another four years.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then Rose, gentle this time. “You don’t want them?”

“Of course I do!” you snap, too quickly. You exhale hard. “It’s just… not the plan. And besides, I’m not pregnant. You’re all being ridiculous.”

Rose hums, unfazed. “One way to find out.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your pulse and get your replu ready, when Tara suddenly claps her hands.

“Right! Stay put. I’ll be back in fifteen.”

You turn. “Tara—don’t you dare—” call after her, but she’s already halfway out the door, yelling something about a convenience store and how she’s buying the good brand.

You slump into Rose’s side as Lara hands you tissues and a water bottle like a war medic. “This is excessive,” you mutter.

“No,” Rose says dryly. “This is justice.”

Twenty minutes later, Tara returns triumphant—waving a plastic bag overhead like she just came back from a holy quest.

“Okay,” she says, dropping it on the desk. “We’ve got options. Pink box, digital one, and the one with the stupid little lines no one can ever read properly. You’re doing all three.”

“Why?” you deadpan.

“Because if I have to watch you puke your soul out, I deserve to confirm if you’re creating life.”

“I’m not!”

“You might be!”

With an exaggerated grumble, you snatch the bag from her and march back to the bathroom. You hear Lara mutter something like, “She’s definitely pregnant,” and Rose whisper, “I can already hear the existential spiral.”

You do the tests.

You sit on the closed toilet lid, arms crossed, eyes locked on the trio of plastic sticks lined up on the sink like tiny instruments of destiny.

Five minutes.

You glance once. Blink.

You lean in.

All three. Positive.

You stare at them in stunned silence.

Then you start laughing.

Loud. Unfiltered. A little hysterical.

The kind of laugh that bubbles up from deep in your chest—raw and unguarded. You laugh so hard it aches—until it doesn’t. Until it’s something else.

The sound fades, leaving only silence. Heavy. Humming.

You wipe at your eyes, not realizing they were wet.

And then you look at the tests again.

Three positive lines. Clear as day. No ambiguity. No denial.

You go still.

Like your whole body’s trying to catch up to the truth.

Your hand moves to your stomach, instinctive. There's no bump, no flutter, not yet—but the memory of that weight, of that fullness, is still in your bones. You remember.

You know.

Your chest tightens, not with panic, but with the kind of ache that carries echoes. Of swollen ankles and early mornings. Of doctor visits and sleepless nights. Of being stubborn, pushing through deadlines you didn’t need to meet, convincing yourself you could juggle everything without slowing down.

And then the first kick. The first cry. The way it all changed after.

You sink a little into the toilet lid, a breath leaving your lips in a slow exhale. Two years back at work. You’d just started to feel like yourself again—or at least, the version of yourself that knows how to juggle everything. But this time... this time, the thought of pausing doesn’t make your skin crawl. It doesn’t feel like a threat to your identity. It feels… almost like a relief.

You tilt your head back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut. Your fingers stay on your stomach, loose and still. You don’t know what’s coming. You’re still scared. That won’t change. But the fear doesn’t drown you this time. It doesn’t win.

A quiet smile tugs at your lips.

“Okay,” you murmur, just to yourself. “We’ll do it different this time.”

You open your eyes, a little watery, a little dazed—but certain.

And for the first time in minutes, maybe longer, you breathe in fully.

Deep and steady.

Because this time… you’re not afraid to slow down. Not afraid to rest.

The door swings open a second later—Rose, of course, but this time her brow furrowed in worry, probably from whatever she heard outside the stall. “Are you okay?”

You turn the sticks toward her like you’re displaying cursed evidence, but you can help the curve on your lips. “All three.”

Tara lets out a whoop from behind her. “Knew it! Knew it!”

Lara peeks in with a grin. “Guess your body's not great at waiting four years.”

You shake your head slowly, dazed and still grinning. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Rose nudges your knee with hers. “Do you want it to?”

You look at her, really look, then down at the three test results.

A wave washes over you—warm, slow, terrifyingly tender.

Your hand moves to your stomach, resting like it’s already real.

“…Yeah,” you murmur. “I think I do.”

Then louder. “I mean, I was hoping for more eventually. I just didn’t think eventually meant now.”

Lara smiles. “Well, the universe disagrees.”

“And so does your uterus,” Tara adds helpfully.

You throw a wad of toilet paper at her. She dodges it with a cheer. “So! How’re you telling Zayne?”

You blink. “I’m just gonna tell him?”

Rose snorts. “After what happened the first time, he might actually tie you to the bed.”

Without missing a beat, you shoot back. “He doesn’t need a reason to do that.”

Three overlapping “ew”s hit your ears. You roll your eyes.

“Oh, come on. We’re all married—don’t be dramatic. It’s not like Rose doesn’t overshare about her married life.”

“Yeah, but we’re used to Rose doing it. Not you too!” Tara protests.

Rose just rolls her eyes.

“Right. The hormones are definitely kicking in already,” she says, crossing her arms.

Lara leans in, more serious now. “But seriously. This time, you need to slow down.”

“I already plan to take a break, chill!”

That shuts them up.

You look at all three of them, confused by their silence—and then Tara gasps.

“Holy shit. It’s the miracle of parenthood. She actually wants to take a break from work!”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” Rose sighs, wiping away imaginary tears.

“Truly historic,” Lara adds, miming the same.

You roll your eyes. You’re too tired to argue. But then Rose nudges you again, and the glint in her eye tells you exactly what she’s about to say.

“Don’t you—”

“What did I say before?”

You groan and chuck a different roll of toilet paper at her.

“Please don’t destroy company property,” Lara says calmly, like this is just another Tuesday.

“Hey, what did I do? I’m not the one who bragged about being the ‘careful’ one,” Rose says, dodging the toilet paper.

“You jinxed us!”

“Nah, I predicted it. Honestly, I was more surprised when you two planned Serena and actually succeeded.”

“Hey!”

“Actually, same here,” Tara chimes in.

“Hey!!”

“To be fair,” Lara says, deadpan, “I thought you’d have kids right after the wedding.”

“Oh, screw you guys!”

You end up throwing every toilet paper roll at them. They shriek, dodge, and laugh—but so do you.

Three tests in one hand.

Your squad by your side.

And a quiet, undeniable bloom of disbelief turning into joy.

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It’s late afternoon when you arrive at Serena’s preschool. The moment the door opens, a wave of tiny voices bursts out.

“Bye, Serena!”

“See you tomorrow, Serenaaa!”

“Bring your cool star stickers tomorrow!”

She walks out slowly, her soft footsteps nearly lost in the chorus of chaos. One hand waves delicately, her expression calm despite the flurry of goodbye shouts. You swear her classmates treat her like the lead of a drama troupe heading off-stage.

You take her hand and squeeze. “Popular as always, huh?”

She glances up at you with a small smile, holding her snow rabbit in her other arm. “They talk a lot, but they nice.”

You laugh. “Yeah, they really do.”

As you walk down the sidewalk together, you give her hand another gentle squeeze. “Hey… remember when you and your cousins asked Daddy about where babies come from?”

Serena nods, expression thoughtful. “Willow’s still drawing baby trees.”

You chuckle. “Of course she is. But you… you understood it really well.”

She hums quietly.

“So…” you say lightly, “what would you think if we planted another baby seed sometime? Like… if you had a little sibling?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She frowns at the sky like she’s waiting for a cartoon idea bubble to pop up. Then she looks at you, asking, "In Mummy's belly?"

You stifle a laugh. “Yes. In my belly.”

“Hmm,” She hugs her little stuffed rabbit to her chest. “It might hurt you. But it’s very worth it.”

Your breath catches for a second. That was almost word-for-word what Zayne told her once, when she asked if it hurts. You remember the way he said it so gently. “Sometimes, yes. But the doctor and everyone around the mom help take care of her, so she’s not alone. And when the baby finally arrives, it’s… very worth it.”

You don’t say anything else about the baby for the rest of the way home. You just smile to yourself, asking how her day was, listening to her quiet little ramblings, and remembering all over again that yes, this will definitely be worth it.

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Dinner is done, the dishes are stacked, Serena’s belly is full, and your feet are finally up. Zayne’s just finished showering, fresh in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair still damp, trailing a faint scent of eucalyptus soap.

Serena is curled up on the rug with a picture book in her lap, giving each character a wildly different voice. You’re half-watching the TV, half-dozing, one arm slung lazily over the backrest.

Zayne sinks down next to you with a quiet sigh. He stretches his legs out, then turns to look at you properly. Not just glance—look.

“You okay?” he asks.

You blink at him, surprised by the softness in his voice. “Yeah. Just tired.”

His brow furrows slightly. “You’ve been quiet today.”

Before you can respond—before you can even begin to find the words—Serena pipes up from the floor, completely unbothered, completely unprompted.

“Mummy wants to plant seeds in her belly.”

You blink. Zayne blinks.

There’s a beat of pure silence.

Zayne turns to you, confused but processing fast. “I thought… we were going to wait?”

You lift a hand, half shrugging, half suppressing a laugh. “Apparently, the decision was made for us.”

His eyes widen slightly.

“Wait. Are you—? Now?”

You nod.

“Probably from our anniversary trip,” you say, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Y’know. That romantic getaway where someone kept insisting on no distractions. I was on pills. Apparently that’s not enough.”

Zayne just stares at you.

For a second, there’s no calculation. No analysis. Just silence.

Then—the faintest breath escapes him. His eyes soften. And then the smallest smile curves at the corner of his lips—not the usual amused one, not the teasing kind. It’s quieter. A little stunned. A little awed.

“...Another—?”

You nod again.

He exhales, almost a laugh but gentler, and reaches for your hand. Like he needs to touch you just to make it real. His thumb brushes against your fingers, reverent, like you might disappear.

And then you see it. The math kicking in.

Anniversary trip. No distractions. No interruptions. No protection.

He blinks. “That... does make sense.”

You snort. “Took you a second.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I’m a doctor, not a psychic.”

You both laugh softly, and then his hand finds yours, fingers lacing with warm certainty.

“Are you okay with this?” he asks again, quieter this time.

You squeeze his hand. “Still a little shocked. But… yeah. I’m good.”

He leans in, presses a kiss to your temple. “Then I’m good too.”

“This time I’m going to take a break right away.”

You didn’t expect that to make him react, but you can practically see his eyes shining—watery, actually—so you lean in and kiss the corner of his eye, your thumb brushing lightly under the other.

“Don’t cry on me, dear.”

“You said I’m allowed to cry if I feel like it,” he murmurs, his voice suspiciously thick. He pulls you in closer, holding you tighter. And apparently, you taking care of yourself is included in that category.

You laugh softly and tuck your head against his chest. You can feel it—his heartbeat, steady and warm, his arms tightening just enough around you like he doesn’t want to let go. Like the future has started to take shape already, quietly wrapping itself around the two of you.

You raise a brow. “How couldn’t I? Even if I didn’t, my husband would do it for me anyway.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, nose brushing against yours. “Good. It only took ten years for you to surrender.”

“Mm. I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll let you have that.”

There’s a beat of soft silence. Your cheek rests against his, his hand over your belly even though there’s nothing to feel yet. Just the idea of it. The weightless beginning.

And then—

Serena flips her book shut with a dramatic thwack and scrambles onto the couch, wedging herself between you like she’s been summoned by the gods of mischief.

“Can I name the baby?” she asks brightly, eyes shining the same way as Zayne’s.

Zayne blinks. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” you say at the same time.

He sighs. “We're doomed.”

You smile into his shoulder, heart full.

Not exactly the plan.

But exactly right.

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Bonus

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The room is dim and cool, the hum of the monitor the only sound for a moment as the ultrasound tech moves the wand across your belly.

Zayne’s holding your hand, thumb brushing absent-mindedly over your knuckles. You’re focused on the screen, trying to make sense of the blur of black-and-white shapes when the tech tilts her head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“Hm.”

Your heart stutters. “Hm what?”

She smiles, calm. “I’m just adjusting the view... ah, there we go.”

She taps the screen.

“You see this? That’s the baby.”

You nod slowly, relief softening your breath.

Then she shifts the wand slightly. “And that… is baby number two.”

Your brain blanks.

Zayne blinks. “I’m sorry. Two?”

The doctor grins. “Congratulations. You’re having twins.”

There's a beat. Then Zayne turns to you, slow, like the movement is physically difficult.

You’re already staring straight ahead, mouth slightly open. “Rose cursed us.”

He lets out a stunned, breathless laugh. “Blessed,” he corrects automatically, dazed.

You turn to him with a look. “Yes… bless,” you echo flatly.

The doctor tries not to laugh, adjusting the image again. “They’re both looking healthy. Strong heartbeats. Congrats again, Mom and Dad.”

Zayne leans forward slightly, eyes locked on the screen now. You feel his hand squeeze yours tighter, but it’s not panic—just awe.

“…Two of them,” he murmurs.

“Double everything,” you whisper. “Double diapers. Double crying.”

He’s already smiling now. “Double the love.”

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too.

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Serena is lying on her stomach, coloring a lopsided rainbow on the living room floor. You and Zayne sit across from her, your phone ready with a grainy printout from the scan.

“Okay, sweetie,” you start carefully. “Remember how we said Mummy has a seed growing in her belly?”

She nods seriously. “It’s gonna be a baby. I know.”

“Well…” Zayne says, nudging the printout her way. “Turns out, there’s two seeds.”

Her eyes go wide.

You grin. “Which means two babies. Like Willow and Jace.”

She gasps dramatically, hands flying to her cheeks. She whispers. “Two fruit?”

Zayne chuckles. “Exactly.”

Serena stares at your belly like she’s trying to x-ray vision through your shirt. “Your belly gonna be extra big. Like what Auntie Rose say before?”

“Yes. And thanks, honey,” you mutter, patting her head while Zayne snorts.

She beams. “It’s okay. I’ll help take care of them. I’ll be a big sister times two!”

You smile, heart swelling, as she scoots closer and presses her ear against your stomach like she’s trying to hear a secret.

“They’re talking,” she says solemnly. “One said I want cookies.”

“That one’s definitely yours,” you tell Zayne.

He leans back, lips twitching. “Smart already.”

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Notes

Since I already did a planned pregnancy announcement before, I thought this angle would make sense—especially because, well, it is a surprise after all! Hope y’all enjoy! 💕

I was editing to add the rest of the series part but it was too long ahahaha so here's just the whole list: Parenthood AU Masterlist ✨