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his world.

Afterward, he stayed inside her, softening slowly, kissing away the happy tears on her lashes. “You feel like home,” he said quietly.

Mariela smiled against his throat. “So do you.”

December brought finals and the first real snow. Homesick phone calls to North Carolina happened late at night. Mariela curled on her bed, speaking rapid Spanish to her mother while Daniel sat beside her, one big hand stroking her back. When the call ended, and the ache in her chest remained, he would pull her into his lap, let her ride him slow and sweet while the snow fell outside the window. She set the pace; he simply held her hips, eyes locked on hers, murmuring how beautiful she looked, taking all of him, how proud he was of her strength, how he would never let her carry the world alone.

By February, their rhythm was as natural as breathing. They made love in his single room one weekend when his roommate was away, slow and laughing when the narrow bed creaked too loudly, then serious and intense when the laughter faded into gasps. They made love in the shower of the dorm bathroom at 2 a.m., water cascading over her sun-kissed skin while he held her against the tiles, thrusting up into her with aching patience until she came with his name on her lips like a prayer. Every time, Daniel was careful, attentive, endlessly thoughtful about her body’s adjustment to his size. He would spend long minutes with his mouth and fingers first, stretching her gently, kissing her through every new depth until pleasure swallowed any hint of discomfort.

Spring arrived with pale green buds on the trees and a secret growing inside Mariela that neither of them had planned.

She was two weeks late. The test in her bathroom, bought with shaking hands from the pharmacy on Mass Ave, showed two pink lines so clear they seemed to glow. The campus clinic confirmed after a blood test that left her stunned and quietly crying in the tiny exam room. Mariela was nervous of Daniel’s reaction and kept the news to herself. After several weeks she went to Mount Auburn for further validation. The ultrasound provided unexpected news. Twins. Fraternal brothers. She walked back to her dorm in a daze, the grainy black-and-white image tucked in her coat pocket like a miracle and a question all at once.

Daniel was waiting in her room, having let himself in with the spare key she’d given him weeks earlier. He took one look at her tear-streaked face and was on his feet instantly.

“Mariela?”

She pulled the ultrasound photo from her pocket and handed it to him without a word.

He stared. His big hands, those rower’s hands that could crush an oar or cradle her like glass, began to tremble. His eyes lifted to hers, wide with shock, then flooded with something deeper: awe, terror, and a love so fierce it took her breath away.

He did not speak at first. He simply dropped to one knee right there on her threadbare dorm carpet, the ultrasound photo still clutched in one hand. At eighteen, he had no ring, no grand plan, only the full force of his heart.

“Mariela Diaz-Morales,” he said, voice thick and unsteady, “I’m going to be the father our children deserve. I’m going to support you financially, emotionally, every single day. I’m going to love you and protect you and our babies, however we have to do it. You are not doing this alone. Not ever. I swear on everything I am.”

Tears streamed down Mariela’s cheeks. She sank to her knees in front of him, cupped his face with both hands, and kissed him fiercely, deeply, desperately, full of gratitude and joy and the same unstoppable love that had brought them here. When the kiss broke, they were both crying and laughing at once.

“I never doubted you would,” she whispered against his mouth, echoing the promise he had just made. “Not for one second.”

Daniel pulled her into his lap right there on the floor, arms wrapping around her as though he could shield her and their unborn children from the entire world. His hands slid under her shirt, palms spreading reverently over her still-flat stomach.

“Twins,” he breathed, half-laughing, half-reverent. “God, Mariela… we made twins.”

She laughed through her tears and rocked against him gently, feeling him harden beneath her. “We did,” she murmured. “And I want you to make love to me right now. Slow… the way only you can. I need to feel you, all of you, while I still can.”

He rose with her in his arms, effortless, careful, and laid her on the bed as though she were made of spun glass. Clothes disappeared like a sigh. When he settled between her thighs this time, the reverence was deeper than ever. He kissed her belly first, whispering promises to the tiny lives growing there, then kissed lower until she was trembling and slick. Only then did he enter her—still slow, still patient, still checking her eyes with every inch. But tonight there was something new in the way he moved: a fierce protectiveness mixed with overwhelming tenderness. Each deep thrust was a vow. Each shared breath was a future.

They came together in a long, rolling wave, Mariela crying his name, Daniel groaning hers like a sacred word, his release hot and thick and endless inside her. Afterward, he stayed buried deep, holding her close, one hand still resting over her stomach as though he could already feel the heartbeats of their sons.

Outside, spring rain began to fall, soft and steady against the window. Inside, two young hearts had just made the most adult promise of their lives, and sealed it with the same slow, sensual, endlessly loving intimacy that had bound them from the very first night.

Nothing would ever be simple again. But nothing would ever be lonely, either. They had each other, and now they had the future growing between them: Mateo and Santiago, the beginning of a family built on respect, patience, and a love so profound it would outlast every secret the world would later demand they keep.

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