The days blurred into a soft, golden haze of happiness. The twins turned seven months old, and if it was possible, they had become even chubbier, cuter, more irresistible. Liam’s cheeks were like perfect little pillows now, so round and pinchable that Stiles couldn’t resist kissing them every five minutes. Luca’s thighs had the most adorable rolls, the kind that made you want to nibble them gently while he squealed and kicked his tiny feet. Their dark hair had grown into soft tufts that curled at the ends, and their big eyes—exactly like Stiles’s—sparkled with mischief and trust whenever Derek walked into the room. They babbled nonstop, reaching for both their mama and “Derek” with equal desperation, tiny hands grabbing at noses, shirts, hair. The nursery smelled like baby powder, milk, and pure love.

Stiles herself was glowing. Everyone noticed it—even the delivery guy who dropped off groceries commented that she looked “radiant, ma’am.” Her porcelain skin seemed lit from within, her full pink lips always curved in a soft, secret smile. But most of all, her body had changed in ways she hadn’t expected.