It started off like any other follow-up.
Leon had insisted on coming with her again, brushing off meetings and calls with a terse, "I'm not missing this." And Aria—despite her best efforts to project calm—was relieved. The nerves were back, sharper this time. Maybe it was hormonal, or maybe she was just overwhelmed.
The private clinic was quiet that morning, sterile but warm in its polished minimalism. They were guided into the same softly lit exam room as before.
The technician greeted them with a smile and a clipboard, but a nurse followed a few minutes later with a more senior doctor Aria didn't recognize. Dr. Hamid, she introduced herself as. Gentle smile. Warm eyes. A calm demeanor that immediately unsettled Aria.
Why did they need a senior doctor?
Leon noticed too. His hand slipped into hers almost absently, thumb rubbing slow circles over her knuckles.
"We wanted to double-check some readings from the previous scan," Dr. Hamid began, voice steady. "And now that you're a bit further along, things are clearer."
She turned the monitor toward them and began the ultrasound, smoothing the wand over Aria's belly with careful precision. Leon watched Aria's face, and Aria watched the doctor's. The screen flickered with grainy shadows and soft, rhythmic pulses.
"There," Dr. Hamid murmured. "And there. And… there."
Aria froze.
Leon frowned. "Three whats?"
Dr. Hamid exhaled gently and smiled. "You're expecting triplets."
The room fell completely silent.
Aria blinked. "I—what?"
"There are three fetuses. Each has a healthy heartbeat and is measuring well for gestational age. It seems the initial scan only caught one because of positioning and shadowing. That happens more often than you'd think with multiples."
Leon leaned forward, jaw slack, eyes locked on the screen. "Triplets," he repeated.
Aria felt her heart start to race. "You're sure?"
Dr. Hamid nodded. "Very. And I know it's a shock. But this is a good sign—they're developing evenly. Still, this will be considered a high-risk pregnancy now. We'll be monitoring you more frequently going forward."
Aria didn't respond right away.
Her thoughts scattered in every direction—three car seats, three bassinets, three sets of clothes, the flat that was already starting to feel small, the career she hadn't quite put on hold yet, the nights she already wasn't sleeping—
Leon's voice pulled her back.
"What do we need to do next?" he asked the doctor, his voice low, steady.
Dr. Hamid began listing tests and appointments, supplements and nutrition guidelines. But Aria was barely listening. Her fingers had curled protectively over the slight swell of her belly, her pulse still fluttering.
Three.
Leon helped her back into her coat afterward, then wrapped an arm around her as they stepped out into the bright, too-loud streets of London.
They walked in silence until they reached the car. She slid into the passenger seat and sat there for a full minute without speaking.
Then: "Triplets, Leon."
"I know."
"We don't even have a proper nursery yet. We don't even have a plan."
He turned to her, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then something shifted—something deep and quiet. "We'll make one. We'll make three."
That earned the smallest laugh from her, shaky and incredulous.
"I'm scared," she admitted.
Leon reached over, cradled her cheek in his palm. "So am I."
She leaned into his touch, finally breathing again.
"We'll figure it out," he murmured.
"We'll have to."
"And we will. You're not doing this alone, Aria."
Tears welled up before she could stop them. Not from fear this time—but from the sudden, staggering weight of how much her life had changed. How much love now filled it.
One heartbeat had become three.
And somehow, impossibly, they would make room for them all.