The room was dim, lit by the blue glow of the monitor. Earn lay quiet on the table, fingers clutching her shirt as cold gel touched her stomach. Fahlada stood by her side, one hand wrapped around her wife's, the other buried in her coat pocket. Her face stayed calm, but her thumb traced slow circles on Earn's knuckles.
The doctor leaned closer to the screen. "At six weeks, we often can see the heartbeat. Let's take a look." She adjusted the probe carefully. "There—it's tiny, but strong. You might be able to hear it too," she added.
Earn's breath caught. "I… I can?"
The doctor switched on the sound, and a rapid, rhythmic beat filled the room.
Fahlada's hand squeezed Earn's. "Really?"
"Yes," the doctor said softly, smiling. "It's early, but that's a healthy, strong heartbeat. Everything looks just right."
They held their breath, and then they heard it, the heartbeat, fast, strong, and undeniable, pounding through them like a promise of life.
Earn's eyes welled with tears. "That's… our baby."
Fahlada closed her eyes. A single tear slipped free, but her voice remained calm. "Yes," she said, squeezing Earn's hand. "The baby is okay."
Earn wept into Fahlada's shoulder, clinging to her like she had the first time, but a different embrace, this one shaped by fear as much as longing for joy.
"I don't want to lose this one," she whispered.
"You won't," Fahlada replied, though her voice trembled. "We won't."
___
The first trimester passed slowly, marked by tension and relief. Each week felt like a silent battle: every ultrasound, every pain-free moment for Earn, brought both anxious anticipation and small victories.
At home, life had subtly changed. Their routines had adapted to new hope and constant caution.
Earn rested more. She listened to her body. She stopped ignoring discomfort and stopped pretending she was okay when she wasn't. She spoke up, even when guilt whispered otherwise.
And for once, Fahlada slowed down.
She still worked every day, but her long 14- to 16-hour shifts were behind her. She came home early now, often before she was needed. She brought home research on pregnancy nutrition, scheduled counseling sessions for them both, and quietly reshaped their evenings with care. She rubbed Earn's feet without being asked, offered her snacks, and watched her wife sleep as if that alone brought her peace.
Sometimes she found Earn asleep on the couch, a half-assembled puzzle on the table, fingers curled around a missing piece as if holding on to something unfinished.
It had started with one box. Something soothing to keep Earn's hands busy, and now five puzzles waited on the dining table.
One afternoon, Fahlada sat beside her and picked up a piece. She tittered, shaking her head.
"How do you do this without losing your mind? Five puzzles at the same time is crazy!"
Earn smiled, eyes tired but warm. "I match the colors, not the shapes."
Fahlada studied the scattered chaos, sliding a piece into place. "You're magic."
Earn nudged her with a smirk. "You're just noticing?"
Fahlada chuckled softly, a sound Earn had missed so deeply. In moments like this, the fear receded, and it felt as if they had found their way back to each other.
Dreaming again. Loving again.
Earn's mother visited quietly, never pushing, just leaving snacks behind and keeping her daughter safe. She didn't ask questions. She didn't need to.
A mother always knows.
They hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy. Not yet. Except for Tan, who was very nosy. Nevertheless, they were taking it one day at a time, treasuring each fragile moment.
A glimmer of a second chance.
___
Later that week, after one of their usual evenings, Earn curled up against Fahlada on the couch, spoon in hand, finishing the last bite of ice cream.
"You're spoiling me again," she chided with a pout. "The baby will get really fat."
"That's the plan," Fahlada murmured, brushing back a strand of hair from Earn's forehead. Her thumb traced gentle circles on Earn's cheek, and she leaned down to press a soft kiss there.
"Besides… if you're happy, so is the baby."
Earn smiled, resting her head more firmly against Fahlada's chest.
"You're impossible."
"And you love it," Fahlada shot back, a playful smirk tugging at her lips.
Earn's hand rested protectively over her belly.
"Sometimes I still get scared… even the tiniest cramp makes me hold my breath. I can't help it," Earn admitted, her voice wavering as vulnerability broke through the comfort of the moment.
"I know," Fahlada replied gently. "I check my phone five times a day, waiting for your messages. Just in case."
Earn smiled, and Fahlada reached out to touch the tiny onesies folded neatly on the armrest.
"It still feels unreal… that we actually bought these."
Earn held up a tiny neon-green onesie covered in dancing tacos. "They were on sale," she joked. "I couldn't resist… imagine a baby taco party every morning."
Fahlada picked up another, a bright pink onesie, and arched an eyebrow. Her tone was skeptical. "A glitter-sneezing unicorn… really?"
They both laughed, and Earn pointed to another onesie, bright yellow with tiny llamas wearing sunglasses. "Okay, this one's for the cool baby."
Fahlada shook her head, still laughing. "I swear, we're going to ruin our child with these ridiculous outfits," she teased.
Earn nudged her gently. "Hey, it's all about raising a baby with style… and a sense of humor."
Fahlada smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Earn's face.
"Then I guess we're off to a very good start." Fahlada let herself imagine their baby in those clothes, her earlier worry melting briefly into warmth. She rested her head on Earn's shoulder, fingers lightly touching her wife's hand.
"I know I still get things wrong. I'm not always… easy to love," she admitted, uncertainty threading through her calm facade.
Earn let out a soft breath. "Neither am I."
They held each other, saying nothing more, finding comfort in the warmth of each other's arms. Then Earn picked up the Doppler and gently guided Fahlada's hand to her belly. A few seconds passed, and a flicker of silence.
And then—the sound.
A heartbeat. Tiny, but strong.
"There," Earn whispered. "Did you hear it too?"
Fahlada's eyes welled as she nodded, the sound wrapping around her, bittersweet, like the beginning of something they thought they'd lost.
"Yes, my love… I hear it."