Archive of Our Own

Phillip slowly woke to the sound of a tiny voice in the darkness, dragged from somewhere deep by a small, miserable sound. 

“Mummy? Papa?“ Their names lingered in the dark.

Then, a moment later—

“Papa, I don’t feel good.“ It came again, more vulnerable this time.

He blinked into the dark, disoriented, before pushing himself up on one elbow. Beside him, Eloise shifted with a quiet groan, still half lost to sleep. 

“I threw up,“ said a small voice from the doorway.

That did it. 

Eloise, who up until now rested comfortably curled into Phillip, sat up immediately, untangling herself from Phillip and pushing his arm off her waist as fast as possible. 
She reached for the bedside lamp and switched the light on, illuminating their cosy bedroom. 

Eloise could make out Amanda standing in the doorway. She looked awful. Her face was flushed and clammy, her curls sticking to her forehead. The front of her lilac pyjama shirt told the rest of the story. 

“Oh, darling,” Eloise said, her voice softening immediately. “Come here.” She opened her arms, motioning for her daughter to come closer. 

Amanda made her way over to Eloise, a little clumsy, as she was not feeling herself, and melted into Eloise’s gentle, motherly touch. 

Phillip was already moving, swinging his legs out of bed. He grabbed a spare tee from the floor and slipped it on. 

“Was it just now?“ he asked, concerned, crossing the room.

Amanda nodded weakly. “On my bed too.“ 

“Okay,” Eloise said, convincingly steady and calm in that way she only managed when one of them needed her to be. Internally, she was already panicking. “We’ll sort it out. You’re alright.”

“But I don’t feel alright, Mummy,“ Amanda whined, her voice fragile and rising higher, clearly feeling uncomfortable. 

“I know, darling,“ Eloise murmured, brushing damp hair back from Amanda’s tiny forehead. 

Phillip, who made his way to the other side of their king-sized bed, crouched in front of his daughter, pressing his hand to her forehead. Too warm. 

A familiar kind of exhaustion settled in his chest. 
“Hey,“ he whispered. “We’ve seen this before, hmm?“ 

Eloise glanced over to him, already knowing where his mind had gone. 

She must have caught the bug from her twin brother, Oliver. 
Poor little Ollie spent the better part of last week stuck in bed after catching the flu from a friend in his nature club. 

Phillip and Eloise had done everything they could to keep their twins apart. 
One sick child was hard enough. Two at the same time? Absolutely not. 

It had been a logistical operation: separate meals, an excessive use of sanitiser, and constant reminders not to share anything. 
Thank God the twins no longer slept in the same room. 

And with Eloise buried in preparation for an important keynote, most of it had fallen to Phillip. Not that he was complaining; he’d taken point without hesitation. Long nights, damp facecloths, timers for medicine and lots of cuddles while whispering quiet reassurances. 

He did his best to keep Oliver comfortable and handled it. 

Barely. 

Because apparently, it hadn’t been quite enough.

Because despite all of that effort and strategic planning, all the careful distancing, Amanda was standing in their room, flushed and miserable, announcing she’d thrown up. 

Phillip resisted the urge to lie back down and pretend none of this was happening.

Instead, he slowly exhaled. “Guess it finally caught up.“ Eloise gave a small, resigned nod. “Looks like it. Do you still feel sick, Manda?“

Amanda swayed slightly on her feet and closed her eyes. Answer enough. 

“Right,“ Eloise said, snapping into motion. “Bathroom first. Let’s get you cleaned up and take your temperature, darling.“ 

She was already out of bed, taking Amanda’s little hand and guiding her towards the door. 

“I’ve got her, babe,“ she added over her shoulder. “Can you check on Ollie? And maybe start damage control?“

Phillip let out a quiet huff, grateful for her taking care of his little girl. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m on it.“ 

As they passed, he leaned in to press a quick kiss to Eloise’s cheek and bent down to kiss Amanda’s temple. 
“You’ll be okay, Manda. I love you so much,“ he said softly. “We’ll fix it.“
He smiled down at his daughter. She didn’t answer, just leaned into him for a second before letting Eloise lead her away.

Down the hall the bathroom light flicked on. A moment later, he heard Eloise’s voice, low and steady, asking gentle questions over the sound of running water. 

Phillip rubbed a hand over his face, then turned towards the linen cupboard in the hallway. 

Round two. 

He pulled out fresh sheets, tucking them under his arm as he made his way down the hall, already running through the steps in his head: strip the bed, check the mattress, towels, and a bucket, just in case.

They’d done this all week, just with the other kid.

From down the hall, he could make out Eloise humming a made-up tune, presumably helping Amanda get clean. 

He paused for a second, his hands stilling against the mattress. A wave of nostalgia washed over him. 

Because there had been a time when it was just him. 

Phillip, who had sat through every fever, every nightmare, every tantrum, every middle-of-the-night “Papa, I don’t feel good,“ alone, half-awake, bleary-eyed and improvising his way through it. 
Balancing lectures, grading, research and two tiny children on too little sleep, surviving on too little food and letting the laundry pile up until it became its own problem. 

He hadn’t known what he was doing. He’d just let instinct take over and done it anyway. 

Because there hadn’t been another option. The call had come in the middle of a lecture. He could still remember the way his voice faltered, how the room closed in on him and everything after simply blurred. 
There was his brother George, his sister-in-law Marina and a car accident. Gone before anyone could do anything about it. 

And just like that he had two children. His children. He was their daddy now. 

That was six years ago. 

Phillip exhaled slowly, dragging fresh blue sheets over the mattress, smoothing them down with practised hands.

He’d learned. Slowly, messily. Day by day. 

And then, he’d met her. Eloise Bridgerton. 

He huffed quietly to himself, smiling as he tucked in a corner.

She hadn’t exactly eased her way into his life. 

She’d crashed into it more like a whirlwind, opinions first, sharp and certain, entirely uninterested in the careful little cocoon he’d built to keep everything manageable. 

They’d met on campus. English literature and botany. They had absolutely no reason to overlap, and yet she had somehow found her way into his orbit. 
Eloise liked to say it was an invisible string that had woven their lives together. 
Phillip liked to think of it as a kind of symbiosis – two lives that had stopped making sense apart. 

From the first day they met, Eloise added something to his life he couldn’t name. 

He’d found himself thinking about her at odd times. 
Her smile while washing the dishes. 
Her blue-grey eyes while folding the laundry. 
He had desperately tried to stick to routines that suddenly didn’t feel as solid as they used to. 

He’d been gone before he realised it. 

So he had asked her out. He’d wanted to do it the proper way. 

It had felt absurdly formal, in hindsight. Terrifying, too. Not because of her, but because of everything else. Because of what came with him. 

What if the twins got attached too quickly? What if she changed her mind? What if she left, and he had to mend his broken heart while answering questions about why she’d gone and whether it was their fault? 

Amanda and Oliver had taken to her immediately. Of course, they had. He hadn’t, at least not at first. He had watched and waited for the other shoe to drop. Braced himself for the moment it would fall apart. 

Only…it never did. 

She stayed.

Not in one big, dramatic decision but gradually. Naturally. 

Until one toothbrush became two. Until three pairs of shoes became four. Until her books took over his shelves. Until the twins referred to her as “Mummy“ instead of the initial “El“ or “Lolo“. Until the house stopped feeling like something he was just managing and started feeling like something they were building together. 

Eloise cared for the twins as if they were her own: she cooked for them, sang them back to sleep after nightmares, learnt to style their curly hair, drove Oliver to his nature club and Manda to dance practice. 

Phillip never asked her to be their mother. She just became one. 

Phillip’s chest eased. Four years and Eloise was still here. This fiercely independent woman who was choosing exactly what she wanted: their little chaotic family. 

A small smile tugged at his mouth as he gave the blanket one final, absent tug. 
After opening the window, Phillip stepped back into the hallway. 

He pushed open his son’s door carefully. 

Oliver was sprawled across his bed, blanket kicked half off, one arm flung over his head, the other holding desperately onto his favourite Jellycat. Dead asleep.

Phillip stepped closer, brushing a hand lightly over his hair. Ollie stirred faintly, mumbling something that sounded like a slurred “Papa“, then settled again. 

“Sleep tight, Ollie boy. I love you,“ Phillip whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his son’s temple. He pulled the blanket back over him and slipped out, closing the door with practised ease. 

The bathroom light was still on. 

Amanda’s small voice carried out, thinner now. “…my stomach hurts.“ 

Phillip leaned briefly against the wall outside, listening without meaning to interrupt.

“Hmm,“ Eloise murmured gently. “You have a slight fever, darling. Does it hurt a lot, or just a little?“

“A little,” Amanda said, voice wavering.

“Alright.” Eloise’s tone softened further. “Were you feeling funny before bed? Or did it just wake you up?”

“I just woke up,“ Amanda sniffled. 

“That makes sense,” Eloise said calmly, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “Come here, darling.“ 

Phillip exhaled slowly. God, she was good at this. Comforting Amanda while – he was sure of it – she was not nearly as calm inside as she sounded.

“Well,“ Eloise continued, “you’re all clean now. We brushed your teeth, washed you squeaky clean, and you’ve got fresh jimjams on. The next step is medicine, and then back to bed. I think sleep will help.“

“No,“ Amanda said immediately, firm and unyielding. 

Phillip huffed quietly to himself. There it was. 

“It tastes bad,“ she whined. “I know it does,“ Eloise replied, completely unbothered. “But it helps your body feel better. And we like that, don’t we?“

A pause. 

“No.“ 

“Well, that’s unfortunate,“ Eloise said lightly. “Because we’re doing it anyway.“ 

Phillip smiled, pushing himself off the wall. 

By the time they stepped out into the hallway, Amanda was in fresh pyjamas, hair damp at the edges, clinging to Eloise’s neck as she carried her. 

It was moments like these that reminded Phillip just how small his children still were. 

Eloise carried her into bed, tucking the blanket around her and pressing her favourite Jellycat into her arms before stepping out briefly.

Phillip took the opportunity, crouching beside the bed, absentmindedly stroking Amanda’s hair.
“Hey,” he said. “How’re you feeling, Manda?”

She shrugged, leaning into his touch.
“My stomach still hurts.”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I figured it might.”

He brushed his thumb lightly over her cheek just as Eloise returned, a small bucket in hand, lined with a plastic bag and glow sticks tucked underneath the bag.

“I’m leaving this here,“ Eloise said, placing the glowing bucket next to Amanda’s bed. 
Amanda eyed it suspiciously.

“You don’t have to use it,” Phillip added. “But it’s there if you need it.”
That seemed to satisfy her.

“Can I come again?” she asked quietly.

“Of course you can,” Eloise assured immediately. 

Phillip nodded. “Always.”

Amanda relaxed a fraction at that.

They each pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Try to sleep,” Eloise murmured.
Amanda didn’t argue this time. Just nodded, her eyes drifting closed. 

Once they quietly stepped back into the hallway, Phillip let the door click shut behind them. 

He glanced over at Eloise. She looked composed, but her shoulders were tight, her mouth set just a little too firm and her breathing just a little too fast. 
He didn’t say anything. 

Just led her back to bed, pulling her against him. His arm around her waist – holding her, grounding her. 

“I never knew I could worry this much,“ she admitted, her voice muffled against his chest. 
Phillip tightened his hold, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. 

“You’re her mum,“ he replied quietly. “Of course you do.“ 

Eloise held on to him a little tighter. “I love you.“ 
“And I love you,“ he murmured, kissing her again. 

Once again, Phillip woke to a sound that didn’t belong in sleep. 

A wet cough. 

A sharp inhale and then— 

“MUMMY!“

He was upright before he was fully conscious, his body and mind heavy, clearly lacking sleep. 
Eloise was already moving beside him, both of them scrambling as Amanda stumbled into the doorway. Too late. 

“Ohh no, no, no, darling…“

Amanda – clammy, bleary-eyed, shaking – didn’t even make it two steps before she threw up. 

Not neatly. 

Not into anything helpful. 

Just…everywhere. 

“For fuck’s sake,“ Phillip cursed under his breath, grabbing blindly for anything. Towel, shirt, his hands – all of it uselessly late. 

“It’s alright, darling. It’s alright.“ Eloise dropped to her knees instantly, catching her daughter as best as she could, pulling her curls back.

Amanda clung to her, crying now. Properly crying. Small, panicked and miserable. 

“I didn’t mean to! I didn’t…“ she gasped, hiccuping, struggling to breathe between sobs – the sheer panic overtaking her. 

“Shhh, I know, darling. It’s alright. I know,“ Eloise soothed, rubbing Amanda’s back in circular motions. 

She said it like it was nothing. Like this wasn’t overwhelming. Like she believed it completely. 
But what mattered right now was that Amanda believed it. And she did. 

Phillip finally reappeared with a towel, tissues, and a bucket, crouching down beside them. 
“Okay. Okay, okay. Right, maybe we should try to…“ Just as he wanted to suggest moving to the bathroom, reality struck. 

Amanda gagged again. 

“Bucket!“ Eloise snapped without looking up, eyes fixed only on their daughter, thinking fast about what she could do.

“Got it, babe!“ Phillip scrambled, nearly slipping on the hardwood floor in the process, grabbing the bucket and shoving it in front of his daughter. 

Just in time for round number two. 

Amanda sobbed into Eloise’s shoulder between heaves, completely spent.
By the time it stopped, Amanda had gone limp against Eloise, whimpering softly. 

Eloise didn’t say anything. She carefully lifted Amanda and carried her into the bathroom without another word. 

“I’ll handle this,” Phillip grimaced, gesturing vaguely to the disaster zone.

Behind him, a small voice piped up. 

“Papa?“ 

Phillip closed his eyes briefly. Right. Oliver. He stood in the hallway, hair a mess, blanket around his shoulders, scanning the scene. 

He blinked at Phillip – once, twice – then turned away as if that settled everything. Phillip watched him go, then looked back at the floor. 

“…right,” he muttered. 

Exactly one hour later, Phillip sat in the car, his left hand loose on the steering wheel, listening to Oliver’s off-key singing voice. 

It felt surreal, like this morning hadn’t just happened. 

Amanda was home in bed with Eloise while his son was behind him, happily singing along to songs he didn’t even understand the lyrics of. 

No break in sight. 

“Papa,” Ollie exclaimed suddenly, cutting himself off mid-song, “do you think I can help Amanda feel better?”

“How do you mean?“ Phillip glanced into the rearview mirror briefly. 

“She coloured me lots of pictures when I was sick,“ Ollie said seriously. “So I wouldn’t be lonely.“

Phillip’s chest tightened at the thoughtfulness of their son. “I think she’d love that, bubba.“ 

Ollie beamed. “I’ll make her the best one.“ 

Just as he pulled up in front of the school, Phillip checked his watch.

He should be home. 
Every instinct in him said he should turn the car around, drive back, and take over so Eloise could rest and breathe for a second. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust her. Quite the opposite, actually. She was their mother in almost every way, after all.

He just wanted to take something off her shoulders. To give something back. 

Only today was non-negotiable. 

The botany department had been fighting for funding for months, and the meeting this morning wasn’t one he could miss. 
Not if he wanted to keep the greenhouse running. 
Not if he wanted to keep the research he’d spent years building alive. 

So Eloise voluntarily stepped in. 

“It’s alright, babe. I’ve got a light day anyway. Just one lecture. I can do it online and take care of Manda. I’ve got her.“ She’d waved him off with a reassuring smile, a little too convincing. 

And just like that, the decision had been made. He pushed the thought aside and forced himself back into the present.

“Alright,” he said, his voice lighter as Ollie reached for the door. “Go on, bubba. Have a good day, yeah?”

Oliver nodded, already halfway out. While watching him disappear through the gates, Phillip reached for his phone, typing out a message.

Ellie: 
Text me if anything changes. 

Or even if it doesn’t. 

Just text. 

I love you. 

Thank you. 

At home, things were surprisingly calm.

After the boys had left, Eloise had managed to coax Amanda into eating a few crackers, taking her medicine and drinking some water. 

Small victories. 

She’d set up a little camp in the office: soft blankets, oversized fluffy pillows and Amanda’s favourite Jellycat created a cosy nest for her daughter. 

The little girl had fallen asleep not long after, softly breathing on the couch in her teddy-style jumper – a gift from her auntie Penelope.

Eloise sat at the desk, gazing at Amanda. 

Did she ever imagine herself like this? A mother? Definitely not. 

But then again, nothing about this had been planned. The twins had come into her life unexpectedly, naturally. They had needed love. Phillip had needed love. And she had so much to give. 

With them, she found joy in the smallest things: their little hands reaching for hers, family cuddles in bed, quiet mornings with books, wild dance parties, and little coffee dates where the children begged to participate just to drink babyccinos. 

Loving them never felt like an obligation, only the easiest choice she’d ever made. 

Her phone buzzed on the desk. 

Incoming call: Plant Daddy

She smiled to herself and accepted the call. 

“Everything is fine. Manda is napping now. She had some soup and crackers, drank two glasses of water and even took her medicine without any protests. I think she’ll feel better by tomorrow… Yes, I’m about to start my class now, babe.“ 

A small pause. 

“I love you too.“ She hung up and opened her MacBook, slipping back into her teacher role. 

Eloise made it forty minutes into her lecture on literature as a mirror of societal structures before she heard it. 

“Mummy,“ a soft, miserable whimper. 

She closed her eyes for a beat, then smiled at the screen. “Excuse me for a moment.“

Muted. 

Amanda stood by the couch, dragging the blanket. “I want to cuddle, Mummy.“ 

“Come here, darling,“ Eloise murmured, already reaching for her. “Mummy’s just teaching, so you’ll have to be super quiet, okay?“

Amanda nodded, climbing into her lap without hesitation, curling in close. 

“Don’t go.“

“I’m right here,“ Eloise promised.

She shifted her slightly, one arm wrapped around her, and unmuted herself.
“My apologies,” she said smoothly. “We’ll continue. As I was saying…”

Amanda burrowed closer. Eloise didn’t miss a beat, one hand absently stroking her back as she lectured, voice steady, presence divided but unwavering.

By the time Phillip and Oliver got home that afternoon, the house was quieter. 

He found his girls in the living room. 

Amanda was curled up on the couch, her head resting in Eloise’s lap, while Eloise absentmindedly played with her curls, reading her daughter’s favourite book aloud in a soft voice.
 
Phillip crossed the room, leaning down to press a kiss to Eloise’s lips, lingering a second too long. 

“Hi, Papa,“ Amanda greeted. He smiled, brushing a kiss on her temple. “Did my girls have a good day?“

“As good as expected, babe,“ Eloise whispered. Up close, he could see it – the exhaustion in her eyes. The worry, stress, and pressure of being exactly what Amanda needed while being sick. 

“Well,“ he said lightly, “maybe we can improve it. Ollie?“ 

Oliver perked up instantly. “This is for you! Look what I made!“ 

He thrust a slightly crumpled drawing into Amanda’s hands and a small bouquet of wildflowers towards Eloise. 

Amanda smiled faintly, studying the drawing. 

Eloise blinked quickly, fighting the sudden sting behind her eyes. God, she loved them so much it hurt. 

The next day unfolded much the same. 

Phillip got Oliver ready, dropped him off at school, then headed to the university for lectures, meetings, the greenhouse, and a to-do list that refused to get any shorter. 

Afterwards, he picked Oliver up, and together they made their way home again.

Meanwhile, Eloise stayed back with Amanda. 

She was elated – the fever had dipped slightly, no more vomiting, thankfully. 
However, Amanda was still clingy, dull-eyed and exhausted, demanding cuddles and quiet stories, drifting in and out of sleep. 

Eloise gave her everything she needed without as much as a second thought. 

That evening, after the children were finally asleep, Phillip found Eloise in the kitchen, wiping down the counter. 
He came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her gently back against him. 

“I love you,“ he breathed against her neck, pressing soft kisses there. She leaned heavily into his warmth without hesitation, closing her eyes. 

Phillip turned her slightly, just enough to catch her soft lips in a slow, lingering kiss. 
When pulling back, he studied her face. 

Her eyes – usually so bright and full of life – looked tired, unfocused, and hollow. 
He reached for her hands, gently taking the sponge from her. 

“I’ll finish this later,“ he said quietly. “Come on, love. You need rest too.“ 

Eloise didn’t argue. 

Phillip woke suddenly on Thursday morning, confident that Amanda was sick again – he heard the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up. 

He reached to his right only to be met with cold sheets. 

“Eloise?“ He was instantly alarmed, moving before the word fully left him. 

He pushed the bathroom door open, revealing Eloise bent over the toilet. 

“Oh, my love,“ he soothed concernedly, dropping to his knees beside her, pulling her hair back as his other hand rubbed slow circles over her back. 

When it passed, she sat back slightly, pale, clammy and shaky. 

“…Well,“ she muttered weakly, “that’s unfortunate.“ 

“The twins’ bug?“ he asked. 

Eloise made a face. “God, I hope not.“ 

The words hung in the air. 

“…would be deeply unfair.“ 

Despite himself, he chuckled.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “It would.“ He studied her for a second longer than necessary. 
“Are you okay?“

She slowly pushed herself up, then stilled, one hand bracing against the sink for just a second longer than necessary.

“I’m fine,” she insisted quickly. “Probably just caught it late or didn’t eat enough yesterday.”

It sounded reasonable. Phillip nodded slowly, still not entirely convinced.

“Alright,” he said softly. “I’m staying home today.“ 
Eloise glanced at him, opening her mouth to protest, but he beat her to it.

“I’ll cancel. Or reschedule. The greenhouse won’t collapse without me for a day.“ 

“Alright.“ She didn’t even argue, which more than anything told Phillip just how awful she felt. 

Eloise knew how important his work was to him. He had spent years in that beloved greenhouse, tending to his plants like honorary children. Whenever he needed to think, or the world became too much to bear, he went there. 
She knew he meant it and knew better than to argue when he did. 

He settled her back into bed, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

“I’ll get the kids sorted.“

Eloise murmured something unintelligible, already drifting into sleep. 

By the time Oliver and Amanda came padding into the kitchen, hair sticking up wildly, already bickering about breakfast like nothing in the world had been wrong the last few days, Phillip had one hand on his phone and the other pouring orange juice. 

“Mummy’s not feeling well today.“ He told them. Oliver perked up, pausing mid-step. “Is she sleeping?“

“Yeah,“ Phillip sighed, “she’s got the bug too.“

“Did I make Mummy sick?“ Amanda implored, feeling rather guilty. 

Truthfully, Phillip didn’t know what to answer – yes, Eloise was probably sick because of Amanda, but he also didn’t want to hurt his daughter or make her feel guilty for something she had no control over.
How was he supposed to explain something like that to a child? That sometimes things just…happened. That the body got sick, that it passed, that it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

He exhaled softly.

“It’s no one’s fault, darling,” he said gently. “Sometimes people just get sick. She’ll be alright, I promise.“

The twins tried to convince him they could help, which involved a colouring book, reading, drawings, collected rocks and cuddle sessions. 

Phillip thought it was sweet. “For now she’s resting. You can take care of her later, when you’re home from school. But remember to be gentle then.“ 

That seemed to satisfy them. 

Once dropped off, the house felt too quiet. 

Phillip returned to the bedroom with a mug of tea, nudging the door open with his foot.

The next hours were filled with soft whimpers, quiet whispers, and Eloise refusing to take medicine – despite her being sick three more times. Phillip chuckled at how similar Eloise and Amanda were, while not being related at all. 

When Eloise slept, he would do the laundry, clean the kitchen and the mess the twins always left behind. 

But there were moments when he would simply look at her – observing and admiring. When she was awake, he stayed at her side, holding her hair back, offering her spoonfuls of soup and small sips of water, gently stroking her back or letting her curl into him – her head resting against his bicep, her favourite place.

By afternoon, the twins were back and immediately filled her space. 

Amanda climbed into bed without invitation, casually, like she’d been instructed, cuddling against Eloise’s side, her arm slung across her waist. 

“I’m being gentle,“ Amanda whispered. 

“You’re doing very well, darling,“ Eloise murmured against Amanda’s curls. 

Oliver had already opened a book. “I’m going to read to you,“ he announced, “because you read to Manda, and Papa to me.“

Eloise didn’t argue. She just let him, enjoying the warmth of her family. 

Phillip appeared a moment later with water for Eloise and juice for the kids, watching the scene for a second before joining them on the edge of the bed.

By evening, Eloise was still pale, still quieter than usual and still bleary-eyed. But she was sitting up at the table, a bowl of soup in front of her. 

“Maybe I don’t have whatever Manda had after all,“ she murmured, hopeful but unconvinced, rubbing her temples. 

“That would be good,” Phillip mused, “for all of us.“ 

She rolled her eyes at him.

The weekend was slightly better. 

At least, that’s what Eloise and Phillip told themselves. 

Eloise didn’t throw up again, which counted for something.

She was up more, moving around the house, and insisted on doing small things, like playing card games with the twins, reading in the garden while they dug up little rocks, folding laundry and rearranging one of many bookshelves. 

She did enough to look like her usual self – at least if one didn’t look too closely. 

Only, Phillip did look closely – he always did when it came to the love of his life. 

She barely ate, just picked at her toast, and abandoned half-finished meals, constantly claiming that she wasn’t hungry. 
She was tired all the time, sinking into the couch by mid-afternoon. 

“Are you still feeling off?“ he asked, while stroking her hair. She cuddled into him. “A tad better. Might go to work tomorrow.“ 

He held her closer that night, lying awake beside her, listening to her breathing as he stared at the ceiling, his mind trying to catch up with his thoughts. 

Eloise did not go to work on Monday. 

Instead, she was – once again – hunched over the toilet. 

Maybe this is my new home, she mused. 

Another wave of nausea crashed over her, and seconds later she expelled the little contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. 

She didn’t even register that Phillip entered the room, pulling her hair back without asking. 

“Shh, it’ll be okay, love.“ He reassured her while rubbing her back. 

When it passed, she didn’t joke. Didn’t say anything. 

Just dropped her head heavy onto her arms, braced against the porcelain. 

“I think I pushed it yesterday,“ she muttered stubbornly, like she was trying to convince herself. 

Phillip stood up to flush the toilet, holding his hand out for her to take. 

She just shook her head. 

“Ellie,“ he said, voice rough. 

There it was. The nickname he only used when overly worried. 

Still, he understood. 

He dropped to the floor against the bathtub, pulling her onto his lap. 

She melted into his broad frame, wanting to be held, to simply escape her miserable state and not have to think about anything for a while.

After another morning spent in the bathroom, Phillip had seen enough. 

This wasn’t the same. 

Manda had been miserable, yes. But after two days, she was already bickering with Ollie and asking for snacks again. 

Luckily, Eloise wasn’t getting worse. 

But she wasn’t getting better either. Her days blurred into one: throwing up in the morning, food left untouched, a bone-deep exhaustion and lots and lots of sleep. 

But her stomach never hurt in the first place. 

Phillip’s brow furrowed. 

That was it. 

His mind – usually focused and sharp – was racing. 

And then it clicked. 

He had seen this before, about seven years ago. 

After he dropped off the twins at school, he made a quick stop at the pharmacy. 

Just a hunch, he told himself.

“Phillip?“ 

He looked up from the couch as she peeked into the brown paper bag he’d left on the counter next to her tea.

“Care to explain what this is?“

“It’s a pregnancy test, El,“ he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Because, to him, suddenly, it was. 

“I can see that. Just…why?“ She blinked at him, confusion written all over her face. 

“Because you’re not fine,“ he replied, standing up and crossing the room. She opened her mouth.

“Amanda was sick for two days“, he continued. “She had a fever. Her stomach hurt. And then it passed.“ 

He held her gaze.

“You’ve been like this for what? A week? You’re nauseous every morning. You barely eat. You’re exhausted in a way that doesn’t match being a little under the weather. And tired. And I'm worried. The children are worried,“ Phillip rambled, clearly concerned. 

He paused, taking a deep breath.

“It doesn’t add up, Ellie.“ 

Silence settled between them.

“But I told you,“ she insisted quickly, “I’m fine. There is no need to worry, babe–“

“I’m allowed to worry about you,” he cut in. “You’re my family. I worry about my family.”

That stopped her. Eloise swallowed. 
“Okay.“

Minutes later the couple found themselves in their bathroom once again. 

“This is ridiculous,“ she muttered under her breath. “It’s probably just a bug.“ 

Eloise stood there for a second, staring down at the test in her hand.

“Do you want me to–“ Phillip started. “No,“ she cut in quickly. 

“Don’t even think about leaving.“

The wait was the worst part of it all. 

They sat on the edge of the bathtub, staring into nothing. Eloise’s hand in his, Phillip’s thumb brushing hers, grounding them both. 

“You know,“ he said suddenly, “there are always other options.“

She nodded immediately. “Yeah, I know.“

“I mean it,“ he pressed, looking at her. “No matter what the result says, we’ll deal with it. Together.“

She leaned against him now, and he put his free arm around her shoulder, pulling her in. 

Phillip assumed this wasn’t an easy topic for Eloise. 

They had never truly talked about this. A pregnancy. A baby of their own. 

They had the twins, and to him it had always seemed as though that was enough for her. 

Once, when he had tried to approach the subject, she had immediately deflected, changing the subject to something mundane.

So, he had let it be. 

If she weren’t ready to talk about it, he would respect that. 

“I’ve seen what this does to people, babe.“ 

There it was. 

The truth he had secretly longed to hear for a long time. 

She swallowed. 

“My mum,“ she said reluctantly. “When she had Hyacinth.“ 

A beat passed. 

“I was there when she gave birth. I heard it all. I remember thinking people aren’t meant to sound like that. Screaming like that. At least not when they’re alive. It terrifies me. The pain…what it does to your body.“ 

Phillip didn’t interrupt, only tightened his hold around her shoulders. 

“The doctor told us it was normal. That it was just what women went through.” 

Her mouth twisted slightly. “But she almost died, Phillip.” 

“She lost so much blood. They wouldn’t tell us anything, just…waiting. And I’d already lost my father months before, and I remember thinking…”

Her voice faltered.

“I remember thinking I couldn’t lose her too.”

A sniff filled the silence between them.
Eloise shook her head faintly, wiping at a tear that left her eye.

“And everyone just…moved on,” she choked out, voice wobbling. “Like that’s simply the price you pay. Every woman I love has said the exact same thing. That it’s worth it. And I want to believe them…I really do. But I’m still afraid.”

“And it’s not just that,” she continued. “It’s everything that comes after.”

Phillip frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” She gestured vaguely, frustrated with herself. 

“Women are expected to just…become mothers. Completely. Like that’s all they are after. Like everything else just…falls away.”

Her jaw tightened.

“I’ve spent my whole life fighting not to be reduced to that,” she said. “Not to be turned into some…some baby-making machine people smile at and then stop listening to.”

The words came quicker now, but not louder - just more urgent.

“I used to think motherhood swallowed women whole,” she admitted quietly. “That marriage and children meant the end of being seen as a person first. And maybe sometimes that is true. Maybe that’s why it scared me so much for so long.”

Her gaze flickered toward him.

“But then there’s you. And the twins.” Her voice softened slightly. “I didn’t give birth to them, yet I am their mother. I love them with my entire being. But that was my choice.”

“I still have my work. I still feel like myself. I feel seen, heard, appreciated and loved every single day.” 

She swallowed. 

“And somehow, instead of losing myself, I became more.”

She let out a shaky breath.

“But…“ she faltered, searching for the right words, “what if I can’t feel the same way for a child of my own? What if I can’t love them equally? Or what if I can’t connect in the same way right away? I just… I’m scared it would change how I’m seen. That I’d be reduced to something I never wanted to become.“

The question hung between them, a heavy weight that tugged on his heart. 

“And then there’s you.”

Phillip blinked. “Me?”

She hesitated.

“You lost your mum,” she said quietly. “Because of this.” 

The fact landed hard. 

“You know what that looks like,” she added. 

“You know what the worst version of this is. So don’t tell me it’s irrational to be scared,” she finished, her voice almost fragile now. 

“Because it’s not.”

She stood now, too wound up to sit still.

“I would never tell you that,“ he insisted, standing up as well. 

He reached for her hands.

“What you saw, what you went through, that’s not nothing,” he acknowledged. “Of course it stayed with you.”

“And yeah,” he added, softer, “I do know what the worst looks like.”
His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“But that doesn’t mean that it’s the only outcome. Whatever happens, love, you won’t go through it alone,” he soothed gently. 

Eloise looked at him then, really looked at him, like she was trying to measure the truth of that promise, like she needed to be sure it would hold.

Phillip didn’t look away but held her gaze steadily.

“I’ll be there for all of it,” he added softly. “The good, the bad, the terrifying bits in between. You won’t have to carry any of it by yourself.”

Something in her expression shifted – her eyes softening, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly.

The timer on the sink gave a small, indifferent beep. 

They both froze.

Just like that, her smile was gone. 

Eloise let out a shaky breath, slowly turning towards the plastic stick like it might bite her.

“Well,” she muttered, voice thin with nerves. “Aren’t you being awfully attention-seeking for a piece of plastic?”

Phillip huffed quietly despite himself. She didn’t laugh, but her mouth twitched.

Slowly – very slowly – she reached for the test. 

She hesitated for just a fraction of a second. 

Then she flipped it over. 

Silence. 

Phillip watched her face change: confusion first, then realisation, then something bigger, something harder to name.

“…oh,” she breathed.

His chest tightened. “Oh…good, or…?”

Eloise let out a disbelieving laugh, the kind that verged on a sob. She held the test out to him with a slightly shaking hand.

“Very much a…positive, oh.”

He stared at it. 

Then back at her. 

Then back at it again, like it might change its result if he looked long enough.

“Okay,” he breathed, so softly it was almost a whimper. 

His eyes burned, the pressure of unshed tears building behind them. He blinked rapidly, as he fought to keep them from spilling over. 

Because she was probably panicking, and he needed to be the one who wasn’t. 

A hand to hold onto. 

A place to steady herself. 

Internally, however, something in him had gone very still and very bright. Internally, he was grinning like the damned Cheshire Cat.

Eloise was pregnant. 

Pregnant with his child. 

He thought of the twins and how effortlessly she had become theirs, the most caring, loving, fun and engaged mother. Every child would be lucky to have her. 

Their family was growing. Something real, something undeniably theirs. 

And her. God, her. 

The image of her carrying his child lodged itself deep in his mind and refused to move. The thought of her looking softer, fuller, and unmistakably his in that quiet, domestic way sent something warm and powerful through his chest – less possession, more awe. 

She would look radiant. She always did, but this would be different – marked, changed, glowing in a way only he would get to see up close. 

She would show the world they belonged together. 

He was the luckiest fella in London. He was certain of it. 

“Of course it is,” she stammered, dragging a hand through her hair. “Of course this is happening. Why wouldn’t it be? Brilliant. Fantastic. Absolutely–”

Phillip’s throat tightened as he watched Eloise’s face – wide-eyed, slightly panicked and still processing the reality of the test. 

For a fleeting second, the old fear crept in: the memory of those early, sleepless nights with the twins, when he’d been so utterly alone, so terrified of failing them. 

But then he looked at Eloise: her flushed face, her hands steady despite the tremor in her voice, and the fear loosened its grip. 

They weren’t alone anymore. He wasn’t alone anymore. 

They were a team, and if there was one thing he knew, it was that together, they could face anything.

“Eloise.” Her name, soft and steady, cut through her spiralling.

She looked at him again – at his dark blue, calming eyes. 

“I’m terrified,” she admitted, her voice small in a way it almost never was. “Like, properly terrified.”

Phillip stepped closer without thinking, pulling her into a hug. Her face pressed against his chest, his strong arms wrapping around her as if he could shield her from every fear she carried.

“I know,” he whispered into her hair.

“You don’t have to decide everything right now. You don’t have to be brave all the time. You just have to…be here. We’ll figure the rest out together. One step at a time.”

She pulled back slightly, her eyes searching his, wide and uncertain.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Eloise stared at the test, the bold plus sign blurring as her pulse hammered in her throat. 

This was what she’d feared for so long. 

The fear didn’t vanish, but for the first time, it didn’t feel like a wall. It felt like a door, and she was standing on the threshold, heart in her throat, terrified and wanting all at once.

Then, quietly—

“No,” she said. “I want this.”

He stilled. 

“I want this with you,” she added, her voice trembling but sure in a way that mattered. 

“At least… I think I do.”

The words had left her mouth before she realised she’d spoken them out loud. 

Yes, she just spent the last minute telling him everything that terrified her about pregnancy and a baby. 

Because she was afraid. 

Afraid of the pain, of the change, of what it might do to her. 

Of losing herself in something she wasn’t sure she fully understood yet. 

But then she thought about him. And the twins.

About the man who never hesitated when it came to the people he loved. 

Who would willingly drop everything, no matter what, if they needed him. 
Who always went the extra mile to give them everything they wanted. 
Who helped the twins choose their clothes in the morning, made them laugh with silly voices during bedtime stories, and patiently explained every rock or insect they brought him from outside. 
And who she would come home to find fast asleep on the couch, a twin tucked into each arm.

That’s when she realised it. 

It was never really about losing anything. 

It was about wanting it. 

And the frightening, undeniable truth was that she did. 

“I’m just fucking terrified,“ she exhaled. 

Phillip let out something between a breath and a laugh, relief and emotion tangling together.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That makes two of us.”

Her lips twitched.

“Promise me we’re in this together,” she said, suddenly serious again. “Properly. No disappearing into work, no pretending everything’s fine when it’s not. I can’t do this alone, Phillip.”

“I promise.” His answer was immediate.

She leaned into him, and he caught her easily, arms wrapping around her as she buried her face against his chest. 

He held her close, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other steady at her waist, his broad hand spreading over her hip as his thumb traced her abdomen with a feather-light touch.

He tilted her head and kissed her. 

Soft at first. Careful. Like they were both still catching up to what this meant. 

Then deeper. Warmer. Real. His hand cupped her cheek.

When they pulled back, her forehead rested against his.

“…we’re having a baby,” she whispered, as if she still couldn’t quite believe it, a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yeah,” Phillip beamed, eyes bright. “Looks like we are.”