𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 @julianxhawthorne
post dated for march 24th, 2025
One of the many things Haven had hated about the return of racing season was the fact that she was entirely too pregnant to fly anymore. She was finally in the final stretch, only about four weeks left to go, and she felt it more and more every single day. The boys seemed to have taken up a new hobby of wrestling as a full-time sport, judging by the way they twisted and rolled in a way that left her breathless and aching. She was trying to tough it out—she remembered all too well how miserable she’d been at the end of her pregnancy with Lake—but something about the way she’d felt since getting out of bed that morning unsettled her. A nagging uneasiness sat in her chest, though she brushed it off, pushing through her morning routine. She had breakfast with Lake, sent him off for the day, and reminded herself that Julian would be home within a few hours. That alone was enough to keep her going. Race days felt harder now that she couldn’t be with him; she was just thankful for texts and FaceTime calls to close the distance.
Lately, nesting mode had taken over her life. If she wasn’t cooking dinner or spending time with Lake, she was cleaning—scrubbing every inch of their six-bedroom home like her life depended on it. Julian had told her a hundred times that they could hire someone to handle whatever needed doing, but this was different. These were their babies, and there was something deeply personal, almost sacred, about preparing for their arrival herself. So, she organized bottles, washed tiny onesies, folded blankets, and cried over just how impossibly small they were. She was so caught up in the process that she barely registered the growing tightness in her abdomen, brushing off each wave of discomfort as just another symptom of being this pregnant.
She hadn’t even noticed that she’d skipped lunch. Or that the dull pains she’d been feeling all morning had steadily intensified, creeping closer together until they stole her breath and forced her to pause. It wasn’t until she was at the sink, sanitizing bottles and placing them carefully in the designated station she’d set up, that a particularly sharp contraction hit. It started deep, tightening like a fist around her midsection and radiating outward, knocking the wind out of her. Her fingers clenched around the counter, her free hand pressing against the solid curve of her stomach as she closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. Okay. That was definitely not just a normal pregnancy ache.
The pain passed, but the realization didn’t. This is happening. She blinked, trying to steady herself, scanning the kitchen as if it might give her an answer on what to do next. Before she could even begin to formulate a plan, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house.
Julian was home.