The twins' first birthday was a quiet affair.
There were no crowds, no fancy venue. Just soft fairy lights strung up across the backyard, a small white cake with edible stars, and two high chairs occupied by the loves of Elena and Zayden's lives.
Liora smashed her cake with flair, squealing as frosting smeared across her face. Elio, ever the gentle twin, picked at his cake with tiny fingers, fascinated by the blue icing.
Elena sat in a blanket-draped lawn chair, her blanket tucked over her legs. Her breaths were shallow, her smile softer than ever, but her eyes—they sparkled like they always had.
Zayden never left her side. He held her hand, fed her cake, and brushed her hair back from her face like he was memorizing every curve, every blink.
She leaned her head against his shoulder as the sun dipped behind the trees.
"Perfect," she whispered.
"You are," he said.
---
That night, when the twins were asleep, Elena asked for a notebook.
Zayden hesitated. He knew what she was doing. He knew.
But he brought her the soft-leather journal anyway, the one she always said she'd use for their "adventures."
She began to write. Slowly. Painfully.
Each word a piece of her soul.
Dear Elio,
You were always the quiet observer. The one who watched stars instead of throwing pebbles. I hope you never lose that wonder. That stillness. I hope you grow up knowing you can cry. You can feel. You can love deeply without apology. I loved you even before I met you.
Dear Liora,
My storm. My sunshine. You made me laugh even when it hurt. You reminded me that strength isn't about holding back tears—it's about holding on to love. Never let the world dim your spark, baby. You were born blazing.
And then… the hardest one.
Zayden,
You saved me every day. You were my breath when mine grew thin. My calm in every storm. You gave me the kind of love people write poems about.
I wish I had more time. More hours to press my lips to yours. More mornings to wake up tangled in your arms. More time to tell you how deeply, entirely I loved you.
But if I go, know this:
You were my forever.
You still are.
Even after.
The ink blurred from her tears. Zayden was quietly crying beside her, holding her wrist when her hand trembled too hard to write.
"I'm not ready," he said brokenly.
Elena leaned into him, lips brushing his jaw. "I know. But you'll be okay. Because you… you love so fiercely."
He shook his head. "I'll never love anyone else."
She smiled sadly. "I don't want you to. I just want you to live. For them. For you. For us."
---
Later that night, they lay in bed. Her head on his chest. His hand resting over her heart, feeling it beat slowly.
"I wish I could give you one more year," she murmured.
"You already gave me everything," he said.
Silence stretched, broken only by the occasional whimper from the baby monitor.
Then Elena chuckled faintly. "Do you remember the night… we had eight rounds?"
Zayden let out a choked laugh, his voice cracked. "You mean you pushed for eight."
"And you didn't break," she teased.
"Because you made me feel alive." His lips brushed her forehead. "And you still do."
She closed her eyes and whispered, "Hold me tighter, Zay."
He did. As if by sheer will, he could hold time still.
And maybe, just for that night—he could.