Ultrasounds

JAY-JAY POV

It's been two months since I found out I was pregnant.

Keifer is not making me do anything.

Not that he was making me do anything before — but still. Now it's like I've been upgraded to "precious cargo" status. He won't let me lift a mug, won't let me walk too fast, and God forbid I try to open a window.

Yesterday I sneezed and he nearly called the doctor.

I told him I was fine. He told me "fine is a relative term" and wrapped me in two blankets like I was made of glass.

I love him. I do. But if he kisses me one more time while I'm trying to pee, I might throw a slipper at his head.

He's lucky I'm too tired to aim.

"Jay!" Keifer called from the hallway, voice bubbling with excitement.

I groaned, still half-buried in the couch cushions. "What now?"

"We have an ultrasound appointment today!" he said, practically bouncing into the room.

I blinked. "Wait—what?"

He nodded, eyes wide, grin wider. "You forgot?"

I sat up slowly, rubbing my face. "I totally forgot."

Keifer gasped like I'd committed a crime. "Jay! This is the first time we get to see our baby! I've had the date circled, highlighted, and tattooed into my soul!"

I squinted at him. "You don't have a tattoo."

"Not yet," he said dramatically. "But if this baby has your nose, I'm getting it inked on my arm."

I groaned, already regretting waking up. "You're impossible."

"Impossible? Or the most excited future dad in the universe?" He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Get dressed, babe. We're about to meet our little chaos bean."

I got ready and went downstairs, still groggy, still trying to remember what day it was. Keifer was already waiting by the door, keys in hand, bouncing like a kid on sugar.

"Seatbelt," he reminded me for the fifth time as we got into the car. "And don't touch the window. Or the AC. Or your bag. Just sit and glow."

I rolled my eyes. "Keifer, I'm pregnant, not fragile."

"Correction: you're pregnant with my child, which makes you sacred."

The drive was short, but Keifer made it feel like a pilgrimage. He kept glancing at me like I might vanish, humming some ridiculous tune under his breath — probably the theme song he's already assigned to our unborn baby.

We reached the hospital and parked. He jumped out before I could even unbuckle, rushing to my side like a bodyguard.

"Ready?" he asked, eyes wide, voice soft.

I nodded, suddenly nervous. "Yeah."

He took my hand, kissed it once, then whispered, "Let's go meet our little chaos bean."

We stepped into the hospital, the air cool and sterile, Keifer holding my hand like I might float away.

Then the nurse looked up from her clipboard and called out, "Mr. and Mrs. Watson?"

"That's us," Keifer said, practically vibrating with excitement.

The nurse smiled and gestured down the hallway. "Let's go."

We followed her, Keifer's hand warm in mine, his thumb brushing slow circles against my skin like he was trying to calm me — or himself.

My heart was pounding. I didn't know if it was nerves or the fact that this was real. We were about to see our baby.

Keifer leaned down as we walked, whispering, "I bet they're gonna have your nose."

I snorted. "You haven't even seen my nose in the ultrasound."

"Correction: I've memorized it. It's perfect. And if the baby has it, I'm getting it tattooed."

I rolled my eyes, cheeks warming. "You're impossible."

"Impossible? Or hopelessly obsessed with my wife and our tiny bean?"

We reached the door. The nurse opened it gently, and the room was quiet, dim, the monitor glowing softly.

"Go ahead and lie down," she said kindly. "We'll get started in just a moment."

Keifer helped me onto the table like I was made of glass. His eyes never left mine.

And just like that, we were seconds away from meeting the heartbeat that had already changed everything.

The doctor came in, smiling warmly.

"Hello, Mrs. Watson. I hope everything is going fine," she said, her voice gentle but professional.

I nodded, suddenly aware of how tightly I was gripping Keifer's hand.

He answered for both of us, of course. "Everything's perfect. Jay's glowing. I mean, she glows all the time, but now it's like—extra glow."

I gave him a look. "Keifer."

"Correction: radiant," he whispered, kissing my knuckles.

The doctor chuckled. "Well, let's take a look at your little one, shall we?"

I lay back on the table, heart thudding. Keifer stood beside me, eyes locked on the monitor like it held the secrets of the universe.

The gel was cold. The room was quiet.

"Hmm, that's unusual," the doctor murmured, her eyes narrowing slightly at the monitor.

I gripped Keifer's hand tighter, my heart thudding.

"What do you mean?" Keifer asked, voice sharp, protective chaos already rising.

The doctor glanced at us and smiled. "You're having triplets."

Quiet.

Very quiet.

The room went still. Even the monitor's soft beeping felt too loud.

I blinked. "I'm sorry—what?"

Keifer's hand went limp in mine. He stared at the screen, then at the doctor, then at me. "Triplets?" he echoed, like he was trying the word on for size.

The doctor nodded, calm as ever. "Three strong heartbeats. Congratulations."

Keifer sat down. Not on a chair. On the floor. Just dropped like his knees gave out.

"Oh my god," he whispered. "Jay... we made three."

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I just stared at the screen — three flickers, three tiny heartbeats, three lives.

Keifer looked up at me, eyes wide, voice cracking. "Correction: we're outnumbered."

I laughed. Or sobbed. Or both.

He stood up, kissed my forehead, then my cheek, then my hand, then my belly. "Three babies. Jay, we're gonna need a bigger house. And a second Keifer. And maybe a clone of Eman to cook for us full-time."

I wiped my eyes, overwhelmed. "You're impossible."

"Impossible? Or the luckiest man alive?" he whispered, his voice shaking. "Three babies. Three."

And just like that, the world shifted again — louder, brighter, fuller.

The doctor glanced at Keifer and smiled gently. "Mr. Watson, carrying three babies isn't easy. She might have sudden mood changes... cravings that don't make sense."

Keifer straightened like he'd just been handed a mission. " I'm ready for anything. Mood swings, cravings, emotional monologues at 2 a.m — bring it on."

I groaned. "Keifer..."

He turned to me, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "Jay, if you wake up craving pickles dipped in chocolate sauce, I will personally invent the recipe."

The doctor chuckled. "You laugh now, but it's real. Her body's working overtime. Just be patient."

Keifer nodded solemnly. "Patient? I'm already planning a mood swing playlist. Track one: 'I'm Fine, Leave Me Alone.' Track two: 'Why Did You Leave Me Alone?'"

I buried my face in my hands. "You're impossible."

"Impossible? Or the most emotionally prepared husband in the building?"

The doctor smiled again. "You two are going to be just fine."

I wasn't sure if I was about to cry or laugh or demand mangoes with vinegar.

But Keifer squeezed my hand, and somehow, that made everything feel manageable.