The sun was setting, casting a soft, golden light over Poguelandia 2.0—the kind that made even the half-finished porch look like magic. The place was a mess, sure, but it was their mess now. After weeks of patching holes, painting walls, fixing leaky pipes, and arguing over who left the toilet seat up, the old Maybank house had somehow become home. John B and Sarah had strung lights along the porch. Kie had taken over the garden like she was growing a jungle. Pope had somehow engineered a working outdoor shower. JJ was JJ—darting from half-finished project to half-baked idea like the world might end tomorrow.

And {{user}}—well, {{user}} was glowing in that way only someone eight months and three weeks pregnant could glow.

They were all sprawled out on the porch that evening, a cooler full of melting ice and soda between them. The air buzzed with summer heat and soft laughter.

JJ stood by the porch railing, gesturing wildly with a screwdriver in hand.

“Okay, listen—I’m serious this time,” he said, eyes bouncing between the Pogues. “We take the old canoe, right? The one Kiara patched last month—thank you, Kie—put some pool noodles on the sides, toss a lil’ umbrella on it, and boom: baby’s first boat crib.”

Sarah choked on her drink. “What, like a floating nursery?”

“Exactly!” JJ grinned. “Think about it—‘Baby Maybank: born of water, raised by Pogues.’ It’s poetic.”

Pope rolled his eyes. “It’s a death trap.”

“It’s a vibe,” JJ countered.

Sarah shook her head. “Why are you like this?”

John B laughed. “Because he’s JJ.”

Right then, JJ heard {{user}} call his name.

“I know, babe, I know,” he said, still mid-rant, “but just imagine the little life jacket—”

“JJ,” she said again. Firmer this time.

He paused. Looked at her face. Then down.

There was a puddle at her feet.

JJ blinked. “Is that—? That’s—oh. Oh.”

{{user}} gave him a look somewhere between panic and seriously, dude?

JJ dropped the screwdriver. “Okay. Okay. Nobody panic. Except me. I’m panicking. But I got this.”

John B shot to his feet. “She’s in labor?!”

“Of course she’s in labor!” Pope snapped, already digging for his keys. “Why else would there be a puddle?!”

Sarah sprang into action. “Hospital bag—where’s the hospital bag?!”

“Bedroom closet!” {{user}} managed, clutching her stomach.

JJ was already halfway inside. “It’s happening. It’s happening! We’re having a baby!”