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The receptionist calls Tess's name, and we both stand. The other couple gives us encouraging smiles as we follow a nurse through the door and down a hallway lined with examination rooms.

"Change into this gown," the nurse says, handing Tess a folded piece of blue fabric. "You can leave your underwear on, but everything else off from the waist down. Dr. Thompson will be in shortly."

She leaves us alone in the small room. Tess sets her purse on a chair and gives me a rueful smile.

"Super fancy, right?" she says, holding up the paper-thin gown.

"Need me to step out?" I ask, uncertain of the protocol.

She laughs. "Charlie, you've seen me naked more times than I can count. I think we're past that point."

I’m such an idiot. "Right. Of course."

I turn slightly anyway, giving her privacy as she changes. When I hear the rustling of paper on the examination table, I turn back to find her perched on the edge, the gown covering her thighs, her bare feet dangling.

"Come here," she says, holding out her hand to me. "You look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

I move to her side, taking her outstretched hand. "I just want everything to be okay," I admit. "I've been reading about all the things that can go wrong, and?—"

"Charlie." She cuts me off, her voice gentle but firm. "Don't go there. The babies are fine. I feel good. Let's focus on that, okay?"

I take a deep breath, nodding. "Okay."

A knock at the door announces Dr. Thompson, a woman with silver-streaked hair and kind eyes behind stylish glasses. "Tess, good to see you again," she says, then turns to me. "And you must be the dad. I'm Dr. Thompson."

"Charlie Astor. Nice to meet you." I shake her hand, trying to project more confidence than I feel.

"So today we're doing an anatomy scan to check on those twins of yours," she says, turning to a computer screen. "Let's see how they're growing, shall we?"

Tess lies back on the table, lifting the gown to expose her slightly curved belly. I swallow hard, reality hitting me again. Our babies. Growing inside her. Real and undeniable.

Dr. Thompson squeezes clear gel onto Tess's stomach.

"Ready to see your babies?" Dr. Thompson asks, positioning the ultrasound wand over Tess's belly.

I take Tess's hand again, holding tight as the screen flickers to life with static gray shapes that I can’t make out at first. Then Dr. Thompson moves the wand slightly, and suddenly—there it is. A head. A spine. An arm. My throat closes up as if someone's tightened a vice around it.

These aren't just blurry images on a screen anymore. These are our children, floating in their own private oasis, completely oblivious to the fact that they've just knocked the air from my lungs with their perfect tiny existence.

"There's Baby A," Dr. Thompson says, pointing to the clearer image on the left side of the screen. “Measuring right on track for fourteen weeks."

I lean forward, transfixed by the tiny figure. I can make out a profile—a forehead, a nose, the curve of a chin. My chin? Tess's nose? It's definitely too soon to tell.

"And here," Dr. Thompson continues, moving the wand slightly, "is Baby B. Also looking perfect."

Two distinct shapes now, two separate beings. I try to form words, but they stick in my throat.

"They've grown so much since last time," Tess whispers, her voice full of wonder.

Last time. The appointment I missed. I push away the pang of regret and focus on what's happening now, on being present for this moment.

"Would you like to hear the heartbeats?" Dr. Thompson asks.

We both nod, and she adjusts something on the machine. Suddenly, the room fills with a rapid, rhythmic whooshing sound—fast and strong, like galloping horses.

"That's Baby A," she says, then moves the wand slightly. A second heartbeat joins the first, slightly out of sync. "And that's Baby B."

The sound hits me like a physical force. Two heartbeats. Two lives that Tess and I created.