27th of June, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: Michael and I walked into the main house at Neverland, laughing at a joke he'd just told.

His hand rested gently on the small of my back as he guided me into the foyer.

He turned to thank Bill again before closing the door, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips.

We greeted Edith, then made our way to the bedroom, stopping in our tracks when Jake appeared from the study.

He examined us, his expression clearly unsatisfied, especially when seeing Michael's arm that now wrapped around my waist.

"Mike," his tone was off. "Ready to get back to work? The therapist should be here in a bit."

My husband tightened his grip on me. "Oh, uh, Jake... I was kinda hoping we could start again tomorrow. It's pretty late, Angie and I just wanna go to bed..."

"We have a session scheduled."

"I know, but-"

"We've already got the session booked, Mike. You know how critical they are- Especially after this long break. We can't put them off."

Michael paused, an apologetic look on his face as he glanced at me.

I gave him a small nod to let him I understood.

"Alright," he unwillingly agreed. "We'll do the session. Just give me a second to freshen up."

Before he left, he turned me to face him, kissing me softly.

I watched him as carried our bags into the bedroom and sighed deeply.

I felt Jake's gaze on me, and when I looked at him again, his eyes almost burned a hole inside me.

"Look, Angela," he crossed his arms. "I get that you're newly married and excited, but this honeymoon was a distraction. He can't keep using personal time as an excuse to avoid doing the work that needs to be done."

I rolled my eyes. Of course he'd have something to say.

"He's been working hard, Jake. He needed this time to recharge, and so did I."

Jake leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You don't understand how crucial this is. I'm here to help him, not babysit."

"You don't have to babysit him. He's an adult who can make his own choices. But you also need to realize he's more than just your patient, he's my husband."

"Your husband who is still battling his demons," Jake replied, annoyed with my response. "I'm trying to help him focus. And you're the one who convinced him to hire me, so don't let your feelings get in the way of what he needs."

I took in a deep breath, not wanting to lash out at him, but he was getting on my last nerve.

"I love him, Jake. I'm here to support him, but I won't let you treat me like the enemy here. This honeymoon was part of our healing, too."

Just then, Michael reappeared, his face brightening when he saw me. "Everything okay?"

I forced a smile, glancing at Jake, who straightened up.

"Just a little discussion about our plans," I said, closing the distance between Michael and I. "I'll let you do your thing. I'll be waiting in bed..."

Wrapping my arms around him, I pulled him into a deep kiss.

He leaned into it, his body pressed against mine, clearly wanting to join me instead of dealing with Jake.

I heard Jake scoff, but I couldn't care less.

It was when my husband squeezed my ass that he cleared his throat loudly.

Michael pulled away, annoyed. "Jake, can we have a minute? Alone?"

He kissed me again when Jake reluctantly agreed, leaving us.

"I'll come cuddle you to sleep as soon as I'm done."

"Mmm," I hummed against his lips. "Can we do more than cuddle..?"

He chuckled, tightening his grip. "I would like that, very much."

About to kiss me again, Michael leaned in, but Jake called his name from the study.

With a loud huff, my husband joined him inside.

~

Michael: After two long hours, I finally managed to wrap up the session.

Both Jake and my therapist tried to dig into how I was feeling, asking if anything was resurfacing.

But nothing did. There was nothing I wanted to talk about, because the past week was anything but stressful.

I didn't even have any nightmares, so I was clearly doing better.

Just as I was about to head back to the bedroom, Jake stopped me.

"Mike," he began, crossing his arms. "Angela, she's... Something. I just hope you're not letting her get to you too much."

Get to me?

"What do you mean?" I questioned, a frown forming on my lips.

"She's... Well, she obviously cares about you a lot, but I don't think she's focused enough on your recovery. Your honeymoon was a distraction. You have to understand that."

"The honeymoon I planned? For us to get away? I don't think so."

"Look, a week is a long time. It set us back" he insisted.

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Set you back, maybe. For the first time in months, I felt present. Angela and I reconnected. It's what we needed. What I needed. You know, I barely planned my own wedding, trying to get better. I even missed my kids' last ultrasound because of one of your meetings, and you knew how important that was to me."

Jake's face tightened, but he tried to keep his voice calm. "Mike, I'm not trying to attack you. But you have to prioritize your recovery. Just like that ultrasound, you needed that rest-"

My stomach twisted, and my voice cut him off sharply. "Maybe. And I still regret it. Skipping my kids' ultrasound is something I'll never forgive myself for. But that's the problem, Jake. It's all deadlines and guilt with you. You don't understand what it's like to balance everything- therapy, work, life. Her."

Jake nodded, though he didn't look convinced.

"I know Angela's been a big support for you. But you can't always count on her to fix everything. She's not a professional. She might mean well, and if you start leaning on her too much..." he trailed off.

"Stop," I snapped, stepping closer. "You don't get to talk about her like that. She's my wife. She's the reason I'm still standing. Don't you dare diminish what she does for me because it doesn't fit into your textbook definition of progress."

Jake didn't argue, though his expression showed he still had doubts.

"Alright. I'll see you tomorrow, Mike. Just... Think about what I said."

I watched him leave, feeling a mix of anger and exhaustion.

How could I make him understand? This wasn't just about 'progress' or 'therapy'.

This was my life, and Angela was at the center of it now.

As soon as he was gone, I turned and headed back to the bedroom, all I wanted now was to be with her.

But when I walked through the door, I saw her sprawled out on the bed, her chest going up and down as she snored lightly.

A window was wide open, offering some cool air, the sheets thrown off her body.

I smiled when I saw her wear one of her honeymoon outfits, along with a short, silky dress on top.

My heart clenched at the thought of her waiting for me to come, clearly wanting more than a quiet night, but I never did.

Quietly, I slipped into bed beside her and wrapped my arm around her as she stirred.

She murmured my name in her sleep, turning to cuddle close to me.

As I held her, I couldn't help but hear Jake's words in my head.

How could he ever think she's a distraction?

~

28th of June, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Angela: Quietly, I sat down on one of the armchairs in Michael's study, watching him.

He was being worked on by a masseur, who was using suction cups on his back.

I felt for him, how tired he looked after another intense day of rehab.

Our little bubble of happiness just yesterday seemed so far away all of a sudden.

"Breathe in, Mr. Jackson..." the masseur instructed, putting another hot cup on my husband's upper back, making him flinch. "And breathe out..."

Michael moaned loudly, and I didn't know if he was in pain or not. All I could really do was watch.

"Are you sure this is helpful?" I leaned over to whisper to Jake.

"Of course. Cupping is known to destress the body. You know we've given him a bunch of alternative medicine treatments already."

"But he looks like he's in pain... It shouldn't hurt, not like this, right?"

That's when the masseur placed another hot cup, this time on the back of Michael's neck, a little too close to his hairline.

I could see his whole body jump in response, and he inhaled sharply, his fingers gripping the massage bed.

"Jake," I mumbled. "He's clearly in pain, can we take a break?"

Jake shook his head, just as another cup was placed on the same spot.

Michael cried out, but kept laying down, and the masseur prepared another cup.

"Those places are probably a bit too sensitive, being so close to his head. I think it's pressing on some problematic nerves." Jake explained.

"And that makes it okay? Just give him a second to breathe-"

But my husband let out another strained moan, catching me off guard as his eyes found mine.

They were pleading, and I knew all he wanted to do was go to bed after this very long day.

"Please, Jake. Can we take five?" I begged.

Jake sighed, nodding. "Sure. Five minutes."

He showed the masseur out, and the second they were gone, I was at Michael's side.

I examined the marks the cups left, red and swollen, and my heart clenched even more. "Hey, Mike. You okay?"

He only nodded, although I saw him flinch a little. "I'll be fine, Angie. Thank you for being here..."

I leaned down to place a soft kiss on his sweaty cheek. When I pulled away, his eyes were closed.

He reached to the back of his neck, pressing down on the red mark right there.

"That one was the worst," he tried to brush it off, but I could see the pain in his expression. "It triggered something I can't explain..."

I frowned, moving some hairs from his face. "We can stop whenever you want. Just say the word. You don't have to push through this."

"I do," his eyes opened. "It helps, I swear... Just when they do it, it always sends these... Pains all over my spine."

"Is there anything I can do?" I asked quietly.

"Just be here." he answered, lifting his head so he could kiss me.

I sat next to him, my hand reaching out to touch his shoulder as I watched him exhale, the pain still etched across his face.

When Jake and the masseur returned, I looked into their eyes. "Could we ease up a little?"

"Angela, we can't-" Jake started, but I cut him off.

"You can, Jake. Maybe focus on his lower back tonight? Would that be less painful, Michael?"

My husband nodded slightly, although hesitant.

Jake's jaw tightened as he processed my request.

He paused, looking from Michael to me, and then finally let out a sigh.

"Fine," he gave up, but his tone was careful, traced with that same frustration he always had when things didn't go according to his plan. "We'll work on the lower back for the rest of the session."

The masseur nodded in understanding, gathering his cups and repositioning above Michael.

He was gentle this time, pressing his hands into Michael's lower back to ease the tension without placing any additional cups yet.

I could see Michael's shoulders slowly relax under the masseur's touch, compared to before.

He gave me a small, grateful smile, his eyes glossy when he glanced my way.

"Thank you." he whispered, almost too low to hear.

His fingers found mine before squeezing lightly.

"Always." I mumbled, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

The masseur went on to put the cups on his lower back, and luckily, my husband only slightly winced.

"I'm okay." he reassured.

I placed another, long kiss on his temple, stroking his hair away again.

As I did, I felt Jake's eyes on us, on our intertwined hands, the way I repeatedly placed kisses to calm Michael down.

Jake inhaled loudly, "Angela, maybe we shouldn't distract him-"

"From what?" I asked, keeping my tone neutral as I ran my fingers along Michael's shoulder. "He needs to relax, Jake, not brace himself. Isn't that the whole point?"

Jake's mouth pressed into a line, but he said nothing, watching as I bent down again and brushed my lips against Michael's ear.

His fingers curled around mine, body relaxing at the comfort I was offering.

There was a moment of silence while Jake weighed his words, probably figuring out how to challenge this without crossing any lines.

But I guessed he decided against it, seeing Michael finally calm down under my touch.

The masseur continued his work, his hands gliding skillfully over his lower back, each movement careful and calculated.

I kept my eyes on my husband, his breathing finally slowed, the tension melting away.

With every touch, every whisper, I felt his gratitude in the squeezes of his fingers.

"I'm so glad you're here." he whispered, a small smile playing on his lips.

I caressed his shoulder again, glancing back at Jake, who was clearly doing his best to stay composed, keeping it professional.

Though his expression revealed more than he intended.

His lips tightened when I leaned down once more, this time pressing a longer, reassuring kiss to Michael's cheek.

"You know, Jake," I said quietly, catching his eye. "Sometimes relaxation comes from the people around us more than any treatment."

He shook his head, a quiet scoff leaving his lips, but Michael didn't notice our back and forth.

And for some reason, Jake didn't reply to my comment, or react for the rest of the treatment.

When the masseur was finally done, my husband sighed in relief. "I think I'm gonna go take a cold shower."

"Okay," I kissed him lightly as he sat up. "I'll be there soon."

Michael smiled, nodding, before he rose slowly, rubbing his neck.

I watched him walk out, exhaustion in his every step, until he finally disappeared down the hall.

Then, I turned to Jake, who was gathering equipment, his movements rigid, eyes down.

I decided to wait until the masseur was gone, giving me the privacy to speak freely.

When we were alone, I crossed my arms as I stood up.

"Jake," I started, wanting to give him a piece of my mind. "I understand you're doing your job. But we both know Michael. He needs someone advocating for him when things get too much- and I will always be that person."

He snickered, "I get that, Angela. But Michael's recovery is priority number one. I know what he needs, too. And sometimes, he has to push through a little discomfort to get there."

"But there's a difference between discomfort and pain," I replied, stubborn to get the message across. "What good is a treatment if he's miserable through the whole thing?"

Jake took a step forward, his brows furrowing. "You're not his doctor, Angela. Or the one in charge of his rehab, for that matter. This isn't exactly your call."

"No, but I am his wife," I hissed. "And if you're hurting him, it becomes my call."

Before he had a chance to respond, I felt pressure around my abdomen, like the one on our wedding night.

Gosh, I haven't had one in over a week, why now?

I let out a gasp, doubling over slightly, cradling my belly.

Jake's expression changed immediately. "Angela, are you okay?"

I grasped the top of the armchair next to me, unable to speak.

The pain was a little too intense to even talk, coming and going in waves.

Jake moved closer, his usual guarded look replaced by concern.

"Here, sit back down-" he tried to touch my arm, but I cut him off sharply.

"D- don't touch me."

"Don't be ridiculous, I'm just trying to help you."

"I don't need your help," I rolled my eyes, moaning as another wave went through me. "Ow, ow, ow..."

"At least take my hand, and breathe." he offered his hand for me to hold.

And although I didn't want to, I grabbed it.

He guided me to sit, showed me how to breath, and just when I was distracted enough, he propped my legs up on the coffee table.

The pain started fading while I breathed steadily. "Oh, thank God..."

"I'll go grab you some water." Jake said, but before I could protest, he was already gone.

I sighed, rubbing my bump. "Great timing, babies. I was about to tell him off..."

Just then, Michael walked through the door, all freshened up.

His eyes widened, full of concern, seeing me with my horizontal legs and holding my belly.

"What happened?" he crouched in front of me instantly.

I smiled, moving a wet curl from his eyes so I could look into them better. "Nothing serious. Another Braxton Hicks."

"Oh, thank God." he let out a breath.

I laughed. Yup, we are definitely husband and wife. I can't believe how much we've rubbed off on each other.

He leaned down to place a soft kiss on my still hard belly, and I allowed myself to play with his hair gently. "Stop scaring mommy and me, babies."

A knock on the door interrupted our little family moment.

Jake held a tall glass of water for me to drink. "Mike. Sorry, I just wanted to bring this for Angela. Here."

He placed it next to my feet on the table, and I thanked him.

"Seems like you got this all under control, Mike," Jake nodded his way. "I'll, uh, be heading home. Get some sleep, both of you."

Before either of us could say anything to him, he disappeared, and a few moments later the front door closed shut.

Maybe I've been too harsh on him. He is only trying to help Michael, after all...

Michael grabbed the water for me, placing it in my hand. "Drink."

I obliged, showing him as I gulped the whole thing down.

He kissed my lips, "You sure you're okay?"

"Mmhm," I kissed him again. "Just a little tired from this day. Can we go to bed?"

"Of course, Angie."

My husband then insisted on helping me walk, even through his own pain, but once we were cuddled in the safety of our bed, nothing mattered anymore.

It was just us again. Us, and our small family growing within me.

~

16th of July, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Michael: Angela flinched as Dr. Grey put her fingers up inside her, her hold on my hand tighter than ever.

We woke up this morning, all excited for our planned 34-week ultrasound, when Angela suddenly complained about contractions again.

This time, though, it wasn't just another harmless pain.

The contractions came, one by one, every 10 minutes or so.

The doctor had warned us about early birth with multiples, but everything seemed on track until now, that it didn't even cross our minds.

"Deep breaths, Angela," Dr. Grey smiled, her other hand feeling around Angela's large bump. "I'm almost done."

Angela replied with a moan, her eyes closing shut.

"Hmm, I don't feel a dilation," the doctor said. "Are you sure you put your feet up and the contractions didn't go away?"

"Pretty sure." my wife said through gritted teeth, finally sighing in relief when the doctor pulled her fingers out.

"Well, I can only assume it was too much stress, because everything is still in tact in there. Anything bothering you lately?"

Angela glanced at me, then back at her doctor.

"Nope. Just your regular pre-birth jitters, I guess." she lied, clearly unwilling to reveal that she's been hovering around me for the past couple weeks.

"Sorry." I mouthed.

All she did was squeeze my hand in response, nails digging a bit, as if saying 'don't you dare'.

"Try to rest for a while, then. I won't constrict you to bedrest, but don't be on your feet when you don't need to. I'm serious, you've made it this far, I would prefer delivering these babies closer to their due date."

"I'll make sure she rests enough, Dr. Grey." I said.

"Good," she started setting up the ultrasound machine. "Should we get on to the good stuff?"

Soon enough, our babies' heartbeats filled the room.

It has been almost two months since I've seen them on the screen, live, moving under Angela's stretched skin.

My baby girl even kicked her brother, making me laugh. But their mommy made a face, "Ow. Stop that."

"You might start feeling them kick less soon," Dr. Grey kept moving the scanner around. "Once it's too crowded, they won't have space to move. And they're pretty big, so it might be sooner than later..."

As the two of them discussed what to expect in the upcoming weeks, my mind drifted to my rehab.

Jake said I was very close to finishing.

It surprised me, considering just a few weeks ago he was so insistent on continuing with full force.

But after the last couple of weeks, when Angela joined in for every session or treatment, he probably realized I didn't need them anymore.

He would often watch the interactions between us, how she helped me, and I did the same for her.

And my pain was almost non-existent.

I mean, it was still there, but it wasn't unbearable anymore.

Just a faint reminder of what it once was. I wasn't just healing; I was better.

Dr. Grey asked me something, pulling me back to reality. I smiled at her, "Sorry, what?"

"Do you have names yet?"

Both Angela and I blushed, not wanting to admit that we didn't.

With everything that's been happening, it was the last thing we thought about.

Dr. Grey chuckled at our silence.

"Well, don't worry," she said, eyes warm and knowing. "You'll have a little more time to decide- especially if you're both good about keeping this momma off her feet."

Angela gave me a sheepish grin, then looked back at the screen, her fingers lightly tapping against mine.

We both watched as Dr. Grey finished the scan, pointing out little details here and there, our hearts practically bursting.

The babies seemed so real now, even more than before, and the thrill of what was coming overshadowed any worries we had walked in with.

After Dr. Grey finished up, she gently wiped the gel from Angela's belly.

"Everything looks great, both heartbeats strong as ever, and no signs of labor just yet," she assured us. "Remember, your job now is to keep them in there as long as possible. Rest up, both of you."

I exhaled, grateful to hear those words.

I helped Angela sit up, her face easing when the doctor left the room.

Once we were alone, she held both my hands and squeezed them, her eyes softening as she gazed up at me.

"Guess it's time to go home and follow orders." she said playfully.

"Only if you're ready to be spoiled," I teased, leaning down to kiss her nose. "Because you know, I'm gonna make sure you actually rest."

Her laughter filled the room.

"Oh, trust me, I don't doubt that or you, ever."

And with that, the weight of the morning's worries vanished completely, both of us ready to head home.

~

As soon as we got to Neverland, Angela let out a long sigh and plopped herself down on the family room couch, her hands instinctively moving to cradle her belly.

It still amazed me every time I saw her like this, so ready to be a mother, even when she was scared and trying to hide the discomfort I knew she was feeling.

"Sir," Edith greeted us. "There's a certain birth instructor here..."

Angela gave me a look, and I realized we both completely forgot about having that scheduled, after this morning's events.

"Oh, right..." I murmured, rubbing the back of my neck. "You can send her in, Edith. Thanks."

Angela smirked, but exhaustion was written all over her face.

"You think I can learn how to give birth from the couch?" she huffed, sinking deeper into the cushions, one hand stroking her side where the babies had been pressing all day.

I laughed and sat down next to her.

"If anyone can, it's you." I said, reaching over to hold her hands and helped her sit up.

Just as I did, the instructor walked in, a woman with a warm smile and a calmness that made me feel like maybe, just maybe, we could handle the rest of today.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Jackson," she greeted. "I understand it's been a long morning, so why don't we keep this light?"

Angela let out a grateful sigh.

"That sounds perfect." she replied, leaning back but still paying close attention.

The instructor laid out her materials on the coffee table and pulled out a baby doll along with a few other props that Angela raised her eyebrows at.

"Alright," the instructor began cheerfully. "Let's start with the basics. Comfort positions for contractions and breathing techniques. Michael, you'll be Angela's support, helping her get into these positions and assisting with her breathing when the big day comes."

I leaned closer to Angela, who was watching with her arms folded across her belly.

"Sounds good." I said, trying to sound as calm as possible, though my heart was racing.

The instructor gave me an encouraging nod before turning to Angela. "Angela, why don't you sit on the exercise ball here? It'll help ease some pressure on your back."

My wife looked a little skeptical at first but eventually took her hand and eased herself onto the ball.

I knelt down in front of her, keeping my hands steady on her waist to ensure she didn't wobble.

"Now, Michael, this is where you come in. When she's in labor, she may need help swaying, just like this," the soft woman guided Angela's hands to my shoulders. "You can hold her hands, help her shift her weight, whatever feels best for her."

Angela gave a small, amused smile, looking down at me.

"I feel ridiculous." she muttered, but the slight blush on her cheeks told me she didn't completely hate it.

"Ridiculous or not, this is helping our babies. And especially you." I reminded her gently, my hands firm as we swayed together.

Her eyes softened when she agreed, letting out a deep breath.

After a few rounds of practicing different positions and breathing techniques, the instructor began talking about what to expect emotionally.

"You'll both need each other in ways that may surprise you. Labor can be challenging, but remember, it's a team effort. Support and communication are everything."

Angela's fingers traced little patterns on my hand, now placed protectively on her thighs, and I could feel her beginning to relax.

I squeezed her skin, a silent promise that I'd be there, no matter how rough or unexpected things got.

When we finally wrapped up, Angela eased back onto the couch.

The sun now hung low in the sky, the red and orange hues casting a golden glow inside the big family room.

I sat beside her, pulling her feet onto my lap.

"How you doin'?" I asked softly, rubbing gentle circles on her swollen ankles.

She closed her eyes, exhaling as her hand rested on her belly.

"Better... Maybe a little more ready for this," she admitted, giving me a tired smile. "I know it'll be hard, but with you here, I think I can handle it."

Hearing her say that warmed something deep inside me.

"I'll be right here, Angela." I promised, putting a hand over hers on her belly, feeling the gentle movements of our babies.

My wife sighed happily, resting her head back against the throw pillow. "Mm, keep going with that massage... Your hands are so magical."

I smirked and watched her, admiring how strong and ready she was for everything ahead, yet also knowing to ask for help when needed.

Suddenly, the doorbell echoed throughout the house.

Angela and I shared a quick glance before shrugging it off, too tired and in the moment to care.

I leaned back, just as relaxed, then resumed rubbing her tired feet while Edith went to answer.

But moments later, she appeared in the doorway, looking a little uneasy. "Mr. Jackson, you... You have a visitor."

Angela and I looked up in surprise. We weren't expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.

"Who is it?" I asked, standing up.

Angela propped herself on two elbows to get a better look, just as curious.

Edith didn't have to answer, though.

Because right then, a familiar figure stepped around her and into the family room, his gaze landing on me before drifting to Angela, then her protruding stomach.

Joseph.

My father stood there, hands clasped behind his back, his face unreadable.

The room fell silent.

Angela looked up at me, her eyes widening in surprise, maybe even a hint of nervousness.

I instinctively stepped closer to her, my hand reaching for hers while I tried to keep my own shock under control.

"Michael." Joseph said casually, as if we hadn't spent the last few months in radio silence.

I saw Angela's other hand tighten protectively around her bump when looking between us.

I didn't know why he was here, what he wanted, but one thing was clear.

This wasn't going to be an easy visit.