Chapter 77

The clinic room was unusually quiet that afternoon—except for the faint hum of the ultrasound machine and the nervous tapping of Lisa’s foot against the floor.

Jennie lay comfortably on the bed, one hand resting over her small bump, the other tightly gripping Lisa’s fingers like they were the only thing keeping her grounded.

After everything—the appointments, the waiting, the hoping, the quiet tears in between—they were finally here. One successful IVF journey later, they had told themselves the same thing over and over again:

One baby. One tiny mandu. That’s all we need.

Lisa leaned closer, her voice soft but shaky. “You ready, Mommy mandu?”

Jennie shot her a glare despite the smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t call me that in front of the doctor.”

But she didn’t let go of Lisa’s hand.

The doctor smiled gently, applying the gel to Jennie’s belly. “Alright, let’s take a look… we’ll see how your baby is doing today.”

The screen flickered to life.

At first, it was just shapes. Shadows. That familiar blur they had learned to read with cautious excitement over the past weeks.

“There’s the heartbeat,” the doctor pointed.

And there it was—strong, steady, like a tiny drum inside Jennie’s body.

Lisa’s grip tightened. “That’s our baby…”

Jennie’s eyes softened. “Yeah… our baby.”

They both smiled, relief washing over them like a warm tide. This was the moment they always waited for—confirmation that everything was okay.

But then the doctor tilted her head slightly.

“Hm…”

Lisa stiffened. “Hm… good hm or bad hm?”

The doctor gave a small amused smile but didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she adjusted the probe slightly.

Jennie frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” the doctor said slowly. “Not wrong… just unexpected.”

Lisa blinked. “Unexpected how?”

The doctor didn’t answer right away.

Instead, she zoomed in.

And then—

A second flicker appeared on the screen.

Lisa leaned forward. “Wait… what is that?”

Jennie squinted. “Is that… the placenta?”

The doctor hummed. “No.”

She shifted again.

A third shape appeared.

Lisa stopped breathing.

Jennie sat up slightly despite herself. “Okay… why is it multiplying?”

The doctor finally chuckled softly under her breath. “Well…”

She paused just long enough for the world to tilt.

“…I think we need to talk about how many babies we’re seeing here.”

Silence.

Lisa slowly turned to Jennie.

Jennie slowly turned to Lisa.

And then, almost in perfect unison—

“…babies?”

The doctor nodded.

“There are three distinct gestational sacs. And all three have strong heartbeats.”

For a moment, the words didn’t process.

Three.

Three heartbeats.

Three tiny flickering lives on the screen.

Lisa’s mouth opened, then closed again. “Wait—no—hold on—three?”

Jennie let out a small laugh of pure disbelief. “We asked for ONE mandu.”

Lisa looked like she might pass out. “I was mentally prepared for ONE stroller. ONE baby chair. ONE—ONE EVERYTHING.”

Jennie slapped her arm lightly. “Do not panic in front of the doctor!”

“I’m not panicking,” Lisa whispered immediately, voice rising an octave higher. “I’m just emotionally updating the entire house inventory—”

Jennie turned back to the screen, her expression softening as she stared at the tiny glowing clusters.

Three heartbeats.

Three lives.

Three little surprises that had decided their one carefully planned future wasn’t big enough.

Her eyes filled before she even realized it.

“…three,” she repeated quietly.

Lisa noticed immediately, her chaos melting into concern. “Hey—hey, Mommy mandu, don’t cry—”

“I’m not crying,” Jennie lied instantly, tears already spilling. “I’m just—why are there three?”

The doctor handed her tissues with a knowing smile. “Sometimes embryos split… sometimes nature has its own plans.”

Lisa exhaled shakily, then leaned down carefully until her forehead touched Jennie’s.

“Well,” she whispered, voice softer now. “Looks like we didn’t get one mandu.”

Jennie sniffled. “We got ambushed.”

Lisa let out a weak laugh. “We got promoted. To… triple parents.”

That got a small laugh out of Jennie too, even through her tears.

On the screen, the three tiny flickers continued to pulse in steady rhythm—completely unaware of the emotional damage they were causing their parents in real time.

Lisa reached out carefully, brushing Jennie’s damp cheek with her thumb.

“Hey,” she murmured. “We said we wanted a family.”

Jennie looked at her.

Lisa smiled gently, still a little shocked but already softening into awe. “Looks like we’re just… getting it all at once.”

Jennie let out a shaky breath.

“That’s not fair,” she whispered. “We only prepared one name.”

Lisa blinked. “Oh my god. We only prepared ONE name.”

The realization hit them both at the same time.

And suddenly—

They burst into helpless laughter.

The doctor joined in quietly. “You have a few months to solve that problem.”

Jennie wiped her tears, still laughing. “This is not a few-month problem. This is a lifetime naming crisis.”

Lisa squeezed her hand tightly, eyes still locked on the screen.

Three tiny hearts.

Three tiny miracles.

Three reasons their carefully planned “one baby life” had just turned into something louder, messier, and infinitely more beautiful than they ever imagined.

Lisa leaned closer again, voice soft and full of wonder now.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Mini mandus… you win.”

Jennie smiled through her tears, resting her head against Lisa’s shoulder.

“…all three of you better behave in there.”

And for a moment, as the heartbeat flickered across the screen like a promise, it felt like the world had quietly expanded just for them.