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Alone with two new infants, Juliet is forced to make some massive life decisions when everything falls apart. Reeling after the worst moment of her life, she must cope with her new alternate reality while trying to start over. A new location, two new children – is a new life possible? Can she make it work – does she even want to?

Romance / Fantasy
5.0 3 reviews
Age Rating:


Alone with two new infants, Juliet is forced to make some massive life decisions when everything falls apart. Reeling after the worst moment of her life, she must cope with her new alternate reality while trying to start over. A new location, two new children – is a new life possible? Can she make it work – does she even want to?

**trigger warning: features scenes of explicit language, sexuality**


“Push!” The doctor shouts additional words of encouragement while the nurse holds my hand – they’re my team as I bring my babies into the world because I am otherwise alone, there is no one else. “Push, Juliet! One more should do it!” I chuckle involuntarily, he’s already said that at least three times and yet I’m still pushing with nothing to show for it. I inhale deeply and while holding it in, push with all I have. I feel the baby’s head as it crowns - the feeling like I’m being torn in two and I scream involuntarily. I feel more pressure before I feel relief, then the room fills with the beautiful music of my screaming baby – a girl.

Born too soon and far too small with underdeveloped lungs – she is still letting us know her displeasure at the entire situation. The baby is taken away before I even have a chance to see her, and it seems like I’m not given much opportunity to rest before the need to push overwhelms me again. In minutes, my cries drown out my daughter’s as my second child makes its’ way into the world, thankfully, faster than its’ sister did. I don’t suffer long and in no time the room has two tiny sets of lungs working overtime to shout their unhappiness to everyone within earshot.

Another girl.

I have two beautiful daughters and no one to raise them with. Who knew that emotional distress would be enough to trigger premature labour? I guess no one should have been surprised when I collapsed, least of all me – I hadn’t been able to keep anything down since they told me, so I knew I was weak. I did the best I could for the babies but that’s the only thing that kept me going at all, otherwise I would have shut down entirely the minute I found out and I doubt I ever would have mentally recovered. I doubt I would have wanted to! How does anyone ever get over this? I don’t think I can – especially with two children to raise – my God! What am I going to do?! How am I supposed to do this alone?

Now the room is filled with the crying of three people.

Six days earlier…

Dinner is ready and the table is set – just need my perfect man and our romantic evening can get started. We’re not sure how long we have before the babies come – it is early but they technically could arrive at anytime, especially since they’re twins so we’re taking each day one at a time. Tonight though, is all about us as a couple and focusing on that. We know we’re going to get overwhelmed once the little ones arrive and it’ll be easy to become distracted by everything that entails so we want to make sure we remember why we’re together in the first place, and having date nights like tonight are part of how we do that.

Markus was due home around six, but when he’s late I don’t panic. With traffic and his commute sometimes it takes forty-five minutes and sometimes it takes three hours – you just never know. The odd thing is, when he’s caught up, he usually calls… so the longer I sit and wait, the more I worry. By the time nine p.m. rolls around, I’m in a full panic – especially since Markus isn’t answering his phone.

When there’s a knock at the door, my heart drops into my stomach.

Knowing what I’m going to find when I open the door yet refusing to accept it all the same – the two men in uniform have obviously had the unfortunate privilege of delivering this news to other families before. They deal with me efficiently and professionally, ensuring I understand that my husband has been killed in a car accident on his way home and will not be coming home ever again.

Never coming home.

Never coming home.

Never coming home.

I hear the words; I even understand them but they don’t register – not really. Not for days, which makes getting through the superficial sympathies and the ghouls seeking all the information they can about the accident easier. It is the talk of the town, his accident – apparently it was catastrophic. I try to block the words, but it is difficult when the stories and gossip are everywhere I go – the grocery store, pharmacy – even the funeral home. I can’t escape the horror show that is now my life, or the nightmare that was my beloved husband’s last minutes on this earth – both have become casual conversation to friends and strangers alike.

Friends… enemies… it is all the same when they don’t respect your privacy.

Everyone staring at me wherever I go, the looks of pity for the widowed pregnant woman yet none of them think to approach me, ask me how I’m doing or if there is anything I need. Instead, they all talk about me at a distance, making my already awful life even more uncomfortable. Suddenly, the place I used to call home is no longer the sanctuary I once thought it to be. Instead it is filled with all of the emotions I don’t want to be surrounded by – and definitely don’t want my children living with.

In less than a week, I lost my husband and my home.

The funeral was large, people I don’t even know attending – everyone wanting to be a part of the ‘big event’. I ignore everyone, focusing instead on the urn of ashes that is all that remain of the strong, dynamic man who only days ago kissed me on the cheek while rubbing my belly, promising me a night of love and attention as he walked out the door to work… never to return. It doesn’t make sense – none of us should be here, people who are only twenty-five years old don’t die… it is wrong in all ways. Men who have pregnant wives don’t die leaving those wives behind with nothing but an empty house, a life insurance policy and empty promises never to be realized still growing within her.

But he did… and we’re alone.

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