Signed In Ink, Sealed In Love
Chapter 88
Thirty-five weeks.
Sleep had become a negotiation.
Aria shifted again in bed, trying to find a position that didn't hurt her lower back.
Too left.
Too right.
Too flat.
Too upright.
Finally she exhaled.
"This is ridiculous."
Leo stirred beside her.
"What is?"
"Existing."
He opened one eye.
"You're dramatic."
She laughed softly despite herself.
"It hurts."
He sat up immediately.
"Back?"
"Yes."
He adjusted the pillows behind her without complaint.
"Try this."
She leaned back.
Better.
"Okay."
He stayed beside her, hand resting lightly on her leg.
"You're close."
She looked at him.
"To what?"
"To delivery."
That word hung between them.
Not fear.
Reality.
Thirty-five weeks wasn't premature for twins to arrive.
Doctors had already explained it.
Anything from 36 to 38 weeks was common.
She swallowed.
"I still feel unprepared."
"You're not."
She frowned slightly.
"How can you say that?"
"Because preparation isn't perfection."
That quieted her.
She studied him.
"You're very calm."
"I have to be."
"Why?"
"Because if I panic, you will."
She smiled faintly.
"That's manipulative."
"It's truthful."
Nesting instincts returned with a vengeance that week.
Aria spent hours reorganizing the nursery drawers.
Clothes folded by size.
Socks paired perfectly.
Toys lined up like tiny soldiers.
Leo watched at one point and chuckled.
"You moved those again."
"They were uneven."
"They're identical."
She shot him a look.
"Don't start."
He raised his hands in surrender.
"Not starting."
She sighed and stepped back.
"Better."
He came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"You're working too hard."
"I need it right."
"It already is."
She leaned into him slightly.
"I can't stop."
That was the truth.
Nesting wasn't logical.
It was instinct.
He kissed the side of her head.
"Then I'll help."
At 36 weeks, discomfort increased.
Her belly was heavier.
Movements stronger.
Sometimes the twins kicked simultaneously - one high, one low - making her gasp.
One evening she sat on the couch with a pillow under her stomach.
"Okay," she muttered. "I get it. You're strong."
A firm roll answered.
She laughed softly.
"Rude."
Leo came over immediately.
"Pain?"
"No. Just dramatic."
He crouched beside her and placed his hand where the movement had been.
Another kick.
He shook his head slightly.
"They're fighters."
She smiled.
"Like their father."
He smirked.
"Careful."
She rolled her eyes.
"You love it."
"Yes."
That was the difference now.
Playfulness existed alongside seriousness.
Small disagreement
It happened over something stupid.
Dishes.
Specifically, the way he loaded the dishwasher.
Aria stared at it.
"You put the bowls upside down."
"They clean better that way."
"They fill with water."
He frowned.
"No they don't."
"Yes they do."
He turned to her.
"This is not a crisis."
"It's inefficient."
He blinked.
"Are you arguing about dishes?"
"Yes."
He stared at her for a second.
Then exhaled.
"Okay."
That single word almost deflated her irritation.
Almost.
Instead she crossed her arms.
"I just want things done right."
He nodded.
"I know."
Her frustration softened slightly.
"It bothers me when it's messy."
"I understand."
No sarcasm.
No pushback.
Just understanding.
She sighed.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't need to apologize."
"I snapped."
"You're thirty-six weeks pregnant."
That made her laugh softly.
"Not an excuse."
"It's context."
She looked at him.
"You're too calm."
He stepped closer.
"Because I love you."
That shut down the argument entirely.
Not in a dismissive way.
In a grounding way.
She softened.
"Sorry."
He shook his head.
"You already said that."
She reached for his hand.
He squeezed it.
"It's fine."
Small disagreements didn't become wars.
They became moments of adjustment.
That night, they lay in bed facing each other.
She traced small circles on his chest.
"You handled that well."
"It wasn't hard."
"I was irrational."
"You were emotional."
She smiled faintly.
"That's nicer."
He kissed her forehead.
"Because it's true."
She looked up at him.
"You're still attracted to me at thirty-six weeks?"
He frowned.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I feel huge."
"You are huge."
She gasped.
"Rude."
He smirked.
"Beautifully huge."
She laughed softly.
"That was better."
He slid his hand under her shirt, resting it on her stomach.
The twins moved immediately.
He exhaled.
"They're active tonight."
"Yes."
He looked at her.
"Almost there."
She nodded.
"Almost."
That word carried weight.
Delivery was close.
Life would change again.
But they were ready.
Not perfectly.
Not without nerves.
But together.
The Moretti reality
They didn't need to show off wealth.
It existed.
The house was comfortable and modern.
Nursery thoughtfully designed.
Medical care secured.
But their focus wasn't luxury.
It was family.
One afternoon, a delivery arrived - baby essentials ordered through a private supplier.
Boxes stacked neatly near the nursery.
Aria opened one and smiled at the tiny outfits inside.
"So small," she murmured.
Leo joined her.
"They won't be for long."
She held up a tiny pink onesie.
"Daughters."
He smiled.
"Daughters."
No extravagance.
Just preparation.
Love expressed through action.
35–36 weeks
The heaviness increased.
Sleep became fragmented.
Backaches were common.
But so was anticipation.
One night she woke to strong movement.
"Leo."
He stirred.
"What?"
"It's happening."
He sat up immediately.
"What is?"
She laughed softly.
"Not that."
She guided his hand to her stomach.
A powerful kick pressed against him.
He exhaled.
"That's stronger."
"Yes."
He looked at her.
"You okay?"
"Yes."
She smiled faintly.
"They're reminding us they're almost here."
He kissed her hand.
"We're ready."
Not perfectly.
But ready.
Marriage solid
The small disagreement didn't linger.
They talked about it.
Softly.
Respectfully.
"I don't like snapping," she admitted.
"I don't take it personally."
"Thank you."
He pulled her into a gentle hug.
"We're fine."
She nodded.
"We are."
That was the truth.
No lingering resentment.
No silent treatment.
Just resolution.
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