With the children named, Davis and Jessica's smiles widened.

Davis couldn't hide the relief plastered on his face. It was as though a long, unanswered prayer, one he feared Heaven had forgotten had finally been granted.

But that wasn't the case with Jessica because att the sound of Davis' chosen word, "Jasmine," her gaze had flickered to him in surprise.

The joy of naming their child had momentarily masked it, but now, as silence settled in, the question gnawed at her heart and she couldn't help but wonder. "Why Jasmine?"

Cuddling Damian closer to her chest, Jessica's thoughts raced. Her fingers smoothed the baby's tiny blanket, and her eyes narrowed as she lifted them to Davis. "Why did you choose the name Jasmine out of so many?" she asked, her voice low yet filled with curiosity.

She had thought widely of the best name that would suit the Allen princess and heiress, but never did she expect Davis to choose such a name in a blink of an eye.

It might not be wrong to think he had carefully thought of the name.

Davis lowered his gaze to the little dumpling in his arms, her dazzling features that constantly reminded him of the woman he married.

The lady that had given her all to pull him from despair, left no stone unturned to see him stand tall;

And above all, had made him a proud father, a soft smile curled his lips.

"She is beautiful, just like the name," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Jessica's gaze lingered on him. She observed the subtle shifts in his expression: the gentleness, the gratitude, the love that seemed etched into every line of his face. Her heart tightened.

Lowering her eyes to Damian, she found him resting peacefully, his head pressed against her chest, his small hand searching blindly for his mouth. A sigh escaped her lips…soft, heavy, laced with guilt.

Her long stay in the hospital had robbed her of the chance to give her children what every newborn instinctively craved…the breast milk.

No nursing, no late-night whispers, no chance to comfort them as only a mother could. Now, with them warm in her arms, the reality weighed heavily on her chest. She felt sorry and burdened about their welfare.

Davis lifted his gaze from Jasmine just in time to catch the flicker of sadness and pain clouding Jessica's features. His chest tightened. "Babe, what is the problem?" he asked, his tone gentle, soft and almost pleading.

Jessica shook her head lightly. "Nothing special, just thinking," she murmured. But the sorrow written in her eyes told another story, one she couldn't mask no matter how much she tried, it remained as glaring as the day… unhidden.

Davis leaned closer, shaking his head in denial, unwilling to accept her dismissal. "Baby," he coaxed softly, "you know it wouldn't be a burden if you let us share the problem…as we've always done."

Jessica stilled at his words. As we've always done. The phrase echoed in her ears, tugging at the fragments of memories she couldn't quite reach.

Her throat tightened. "Do we?" she asked, her voice fragile, hopeful yet aching for the loss of what she could not remember.

She shifted her gaze back to the twins, blinking against the sting in her eyes. "I'm worried… will they always feed on formula?"

The soft smile that lingered on Davis' lips faded instantly. Concern furrowed his brow as his heart clenched.

He knew she was right, the babies had been on preterm formula since the NICU, and afterward, the feeding had continued at home. In truth, he hadn't given it much thought. Survival had been his only concern then.

"You've been unconscious," he said quietly, lowering his eyes, "there's no way you could breastfeed them."

"I'm not talking about when I was unconscious," she countered quickly, her voice firmer now. "I'm asking about now."

"Babe…" He hesitated, searching her face. "You can forget about it if it's too much. It's not like we can't afford the best formula for them."

Though he wished to give his children the best of all he could afford, he wasn't ready to make his wife suffer just to meet their needs.

His words were meant to soothe, but Jessica's heart tightened.

She shook her head "I don't want to be that kind of mother," she whispered. "I want to bond with them naturally. Breastfeed them. Care for them…" Her voice trailed off, the weight of longing pressing on her chest.

Davis exhaled slowly, the sound heavy. "But you've spent six weeks in the hospital," he reminded her gently. "It's impossible to produce milk now."

Jessica shook her head. "Not entirely impossible. It will just take time…"

His gaze lingered on her, full of questions he didn't dare ask. He feared discouraging her, feared making her feel bad and inadequate. The thought of her straining herself pained him, yet her determination stirred an old admiration in his chest.

"I know that relactation can solve this," Jessica muttered, brows furrowed in thought. "I guess I'll visit the hospital."

Davis reached for her hand, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles. "You don't have to think about it alone. We'll go together, then decide."

Jessica nodded, her lips curved faintly, gratitude flickering in her eyes. Still, she made a mental note to contact a doctor once she returned to her room.

Her mind, however, was quick to wander again with questions:

Married to him for two years… do I have my own space, or do we share a room?

What about now?

Her chest tightened.

I doubt I can share the same bed with him.

Maybe I'll stay with the kids until I adjust… but will he even allow that?

Lost in thought, she barely noticed his steady gaze on her. Davis sighed softly. "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

Jessica's cheeks warmed. "Nothing," she murmured quickly, lowering her eyes to the baby in her arms, as if Damian's tiny movements could shield her from his probing look.

Davis let it go with a small smile. "Let's exchange babies," he suggested.

She hesitated only briefly before nodding. Carefully, she passed Damian into his arms and accepted Jasmine in return. The exchange felt oddly symbolic like an unspoken promise of shared responsibility.

The rest of the afternoon drifted by like a gentle blur. They sat close, rocking and soothing the twins, exchanging quiet words and soft laughter.

When the babies grew restless, a sign Jessica recognized as the signs of hunger, the women stepped in, tended to their needs with practiced care while Davis and Jessica watched.

Soon after, the babies were handed back to them, their tiny bellies full and their eyes fluttering shut.

Together, Jessica and Davis laid them carefully in their cribs, lingering for a moment.

When Davis finally reached for her hand to guide her out, Jessica resisted, her gaze clinging to the sleeping figures.

She didn't want to leave. It wasn't until Deborah entered, her voice warm yet firm, urging them toward dinner, that Jessica allowed herself to be led away yet her heart heavy with reluctance.