Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 40

Motherhond

Lycha POV

I woke up sometime after sunrise with my entire body feeling like it had been hit by a truck.

Several trucks, actually.

My arms felt weak.

My stomach ached.

My back hated me.

And yet

The first thing I did was turn my head toward the clear bassinet beside my bed.

Two tiny humans.

Mine.

Still there.

Still real.

Still somehow breathing despite the fact that I had absolutely no idea what I was doing.

My son was asleep with his mouth slightly open like he paid bills in this hospital.

My daughter looked suspiciously alert for someone less than twelve hours old.

I reached for my phone on instinct. 1

One unread message.

From my supervisor.

Hope you’re doing okay. How’s pregnancy treating you?

A laugh escaped me.

I typed back:

Pregnancy has officially ended. I gave birth last night. To twins.

The typing bubble appeared immediately.

Then:

TWINS???

I AM COMING.

I blinked.

What?

She arrived less than forty minutes later.

With flowers.

A massive bouquet.

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And bags

So many bags

Diapers.

Baby blankets.

Tiny clothes.

Formula.

Nursing supplies.

Snacks.

More diapers.

I stared at her in shock.

“You did not have to do all this.”

She looked offended.

“Of course I did.”

Then she stepped closer, looked into the bassinets, and gasped so loudly both babies flinched.

“Oh my God.”

Her hand flew to her chest.

“They’re tiny.”

“They are,” I said weakly.

She turned and hugged me carefully.

And just like that

Something inside me nearly cracked.

Because no one had brought me flowers.

No one had checked on me like this.

No one had shown up.

Not when I was pregnant.

Not when I gave birth.

Not when my whole world split open and remade itself.

I swallowed hard.

“Thank you.”

She squeezed my hand.

“You’re not doing this alone, okay?”

And for one dangerous second

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• 20 Bonus

Tatumust belleved her

The hospital kept me for three daysS

Three days of nurses teaching me things 1 should probably have known before becoming responsible for two actual people.

How to swaddle

How to latch

How to burp.

How to bathe them.

How to tell if a cry meant hunger versus discomfort versus general infant rage.

Apparently babies have categories of screaming.

Who knew.

By discharge day, I was convinced they were making a mistake letting me leave.

Surely there should be a test.

A written exam. 4

At minimum a background check.

Instead they handed me paperwork, two babies, and a cheerful

“You’ll do great!”

Insane system.

Absolutely insane.

The apartment looked even smaller when I walked in carrying two car seats.

It had already been tiny.

Now it felt microscopic.

One bedroom.

One bathroom.

One couch.

Now apparently also a nursery, feeding station, laundry center, and site of my eventual mental collapse.

I set the car seats down and stared at them.

They stared back.

Well.

One stared.

One slept.

And suddenly

20 Banus

There was no

No doctor

No hospital button to press

fust me

Not literally.

The twins had developed what I can only describe as a demonic scheduling agreement.

If Eli slept-

Ava woke.

If by divine miracle both slept

One would sneeze and reset the entire house.

My hair lived in one permanent bun

It required pillows.

By day six, I learned Eli believed all silence was deeply offensive and should be corrected immediately. 2

Because nighttime stripped everything down.

No distractions.

No sunlight.

No pretending I was handling this elegantly.

Just darkness.

Crying.

Feeding.

Rocking.

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Over and over

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Sometimes both babies wouldstream at once and I would stand in the middle of my apartment holding one, trying to soothe the other with my toot, tears Inuy own eyes, whispering:

“Please. Please. Mommy is trying.”

And somehow-

Somehow-

Morning always came.

On the seventh night, I finally got both of them asleep at the same time.

I stood frozen beside the bed.

Too afraid to breathe too loudly.

Slowly-

Carefully

I backed away.

Made it to the couch.

Sat down.

And stared at nothing.

The apartment was silent.

For the first time in hours.

Maybe days.

I should have slept.

Instead-

I just sat there.

Too exhausted to move.

Too wired to rest.

Two babies slept in the next room.

Laundry overflowed from the basket.

Bottles needed washing.

My body still hurt.

My mind felt held together by thread.

And in that silence

A terrifying thought arrived:

How am I supposed to do this every day?

す

As if summoned by despair

A cry split through the apartment.

Then another.

I closed my eyes.

Laughed once.

The kind of laugh people do right before losing their minds.

Then I stood.

And walked back toward the sound.