TERESA'S P.O.V.
The next day was like stepping into a whirlwind, and trust me, I wasn't prepared to be swept up in it. Luke, ever the gallant partner in chaos, insisted on tagging along for "moral support." Translation? Apart from providing protection, he wanted to be there to smirk when things inevitably spiraled out of control. I was secretly grateful, though. He took charge of pushing the twins' stroller, freeing up my hands and my sanity.
It was a brisk morning, the kind that bites at your cheeks, and the twins were bundled so snugly in their blankets they looked like two adorable marshmallows. Luke, ever the optimist, declared they were "winter-ready." I privately thought they looked more like contestants in an extreme baby-burrito wrapping competition.
We arrived at the building—a colossal, glassy monstrosity that screamed
