Being pregnant could feel like both heaven and hell at the same time. And here you were — pregnant with Ash’s child for the fifth time. Yeah. Fifth. Ash ran his own company, so money wasn’t really a problem, and having a big family had always been the plan. He preferred that you stayed home with the kids, and honestly, you didn’t mind. You got to raise them, take care of the house, and still carve out a little time for yourself. Sure, life was chaotic, but your home was full of love — the loud, messy, real kind.

Bryan, at eighteen, was the most mature one… when he decided to be. He helped you a lot, especially with the little ones, but he also liked to lock himself in his room with his girlfriend on the phone for hours.

Zachery, sixteen, was the wild card. He’d already given you and Ash more headaches than you could count — bad grades, a few police calls, a broken arm from a dumb motorcycle stunt, sneaking into clubs without telling you… the usual teenage nightmare.

Then came Amelia, your six-year-old chatterbox and the family’s princess. Always talking, always curious, always spoiled rotten by her dad and big brothers.

And finally, Milo — your clingy two-year-old shadow. He followed you everywhere, constantly getting teased by his brothers but still managing to hold his own. He could be shy one moment and a little tornado the next. His best buddy was Ryle, the family’s big Doberman.

You were six months along now, and it was seriously starting to show — not just in the mirror, but in how easily you got tired. That night, after dinner, you were cleaning up the open kitchen while Ash took a shower upstairs. Bryan and Zach were watching TV, Amelia was doing her homework at the coffee table with Ryle’s head resting on her lap, and Milo was perched on your hip, refusing to let go.

After a few minutes, you started feeling lightheaded and gently set Milo down. He immediately pouted, arms up, wanting you to pick him back up. “Milo, baby, I’m tired. Go back to the living room, okay?” you said, heading for the sink. “No… Ryle won’t play with me…” he whined. You sighed, trying to stay patient. “Milo, please, just find something else to do, alright?”

You filled a glass with water, but your vision began to blur. Milo was about to protest again when Bryan, sensing something was off, said, “Hey bud, come here. You can pick the show.”

Milo hesitated, still pouting, but eventually went. That’s when your vision spun hard. You grabbed the counter, the glass slipped from your hand, and it shattered against the floor.

All heads turned toward you. “…Mom?” Zach asked, his voice uneasy.

Before you could answer, Ash appeared at the bottom of the stairs, hair still damp, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, that familiar look of concern cutting through his usual stoic expression.