“Don’t you dare move,” my husband snapped, deadbolting the door while I clutched my stomach, thirty-eight weeks pregnant with twins. His mother laughed from the driveway, waiting for Saks bags, as another contraction dropped me to the floor. My phone slid under the couch. Four hours later, he came home smiling—until he saw the police tape on the porch.

by Geekrew Originals · Jul 9, 2026 · completed