I'm back!

We're getting closer to the end 😔

Again, don't worry, there will be epilogues and a bonus chapter... If you have any ideas for more bonus chapters let me know ❤️

Don't forget to comment & vote!!

Love,
~ShoamEmily

~

6th of August, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Michael: That morning, I let Angela sleep in. She needed it, more she would have liked to admit.

When I woke up, she had thrown the covers off, and used four different pillows to find some sort of comfort, her hand resting gently on her belly.

Before slipping out of bed, I placed a small kiss on it. Just a few more weeks.

I skipped down the big Hayvenhurst staircase, the smell of breakfast hitting my nose.

Mother was working hard in the kitchen, on both breakfast and lunch, a meal big enough for the entire Jackson family.

Joseph sat on the kitchen island, watching her every move.

I immediately noticed how tired he looked, but gave it no thought.

He glanced up, his eyes on me for a bit longer than I would have liked.

For a second, I figured he was going to say something, like he always did when he saw me.

Instead, he mumbled a 'good morning' and went back to his paper.

I tried to ignore the way he always had that feeling about him, like he was just waiting for a reason to criticize.

"Morning, mother." I said, moving closer to give her a kiss on the cheek.

Her hand came down to touch mine, patting it.

"Good morning, Michael," she smiled, stirring a pot with one hand and reaching for something on the counter with the other. "Is Angela still sleeping?"

I nodded. "She's finally getting a few hours. She's having a rough time."

Mother sighed, a worried expression on her face. "That poor girl. I know you're doing everything you can, but if she needs anything... Just tell me, alright?"

"I think she's just too uncomfortable at this point, and I can't really offer anything except for some massages..." I trailed off, frustrated by how little I could actually do for my wife right now.

Watching her struggle was harder than I thought it would be.

Even though I was prepared, the sleepless nights, the pain, the way she'd try to hide her exhaustion, it ate at me.

Mother sighed, "Sometimes, Michael, just being there is enough. You don't have to fix everything. But letting her know you're beside her... It'll mean the world to her."

I nodded, appreciating the reassurance.

My mother always had that gift, knowing exactly what to say without making it feel like advice.

When she wanted to, of course.

It made me want to stay and just talk, but with Joseph there, that idea felt less than comfortable.

I didn't know what he'd overheard or how long it'd be before he decided to make some comment about me, Angela, or... Anything, really.

"Maybe I'll make her some tea." I offered, trying to ignore Joseph's gaze on me.

He grunted, finally folding up his paper and setting it aside.

"Tea's not gonna fix much, that girl is tired. Your babies are really weighing down on her." he commented, looking at me with that familiar expression.

The one that reminded me of being a kid, wondering if I'd done something wrong just by being there. I felt my jaw tighten but forced myself to stay calm.

Mother shot him a look, and he shrugged, "Just saying."

There was a silence after that. An uncomfortable one.

I knew better than to try to change it, but part of me wondered if maybe I should.

Joseph wasn't getting any younger, and sometimes, I thought there was a version of him somewhere deep down that wanted things to be better between us, like Angela suggested yesterday.

But that version never seemed to make it to the surface, and I was always left with the feeling of having to watch my back around him.

And his comments right then and there proved me right.

My jaw tightened even more, feeling set back for a second.

As if everything I worked on the past three months disappeared.

You're not there anymore. You changed. You don't owe him anything.

The only thing you should be worried about is Angela. Joseph means nothing.

But then again, he always has something to say, right? Why shouldn't I say something, too?

I bit my lip, hoping to bite back the urge to argue, and glanced at my mother instead.

She met my eyes, silently asking me to leave it alone. So I did.

"Tea." I said again, already moving toward the kettle, needing something to keep my hands busy.

My mind drifted back to Angela, sleeping upstairs, unaware of all of this. Just thinking of her calmed me.

My mother leaned over, putting her lips to my ear. "You know he just doesn't know how to say it, don't you? He wants things to be... Good. He just doesn't know how."

"Yeah." I huffed, not convinced but grateful for her attempt.

~

With Angela's hot tea in hand, I quietly opened my old bedroom door.

I hesitated in the doorway, feeling a pang of guilt.

She looked so peaceful, despite the discomfort that had been building these past few weeks.

Watching her, sprawled out, pillows in every possible position to support her growing belly, I couldn't help but feel my heart tighten.

She was carrying so much, our little family of two turning into four, and here I was, second-guessing every small thing I tried to do to help.

To top it all off, her short pajamas clung to her sweaty skin as she snored lightly.

I sighed and looked down at the hot cup of tea. Maybe Joseph was right.

Carefully setting the tea on the nightstand, I sat down on the edge of the bed.

I placed a hand on her bump, making her stir.

Then, I felt them. Almost like they started kicking just for me.

I allowed myself to lean down until my lips came in contact with her warm skin.

With a couple kisses to where their feet were, I whispered, "Good morning, babies."

Angela mumbled something under her breath, and for a moment, I wondered if I should just let her sleep a bit longer.

But it was too late. Her eyes fluttered open, finding me.

"Hey," she stretched, a small smile forming on her lips as she reached a hand out. "What time is it?"

"Around 9," I said, letting her fingers intertwine with my hair. "You don't have to be up yet. Just... thought you might like some tea."

She glanced at the cup on the nightstand, her eyes brightening a little. "And you woke them up."

I chuckled, kissing her belly again. "I did..."

A small huff and an eye roll escaped, that spark never quite leaving her blue orbs although I could tell she was somewhat annoyed with the fact.

As my wife pushed herself up, she adjusted the pillows to make space for me beside her.

I helped her sit, taking in every wince, every slow movement she made.

"Thank you," she sighed, bringing the cup to her lips, closing her eyes as she sipped. "This is perfect, Michael."

I stayed there, watching her.

Angela took small sips, occasionally blowing on the drink.

Her cheeks flushed red from the heat, more beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

"You don't have to drink it, Angie. I know how warm you are right now." I told her.

"No, I want to. It's really great to wake up to." she said.

She leaned into me, resting her head on my shoulder as she drank slowly.

I wrapped my arm around her, the heat now radiating from her body.

"Thank you," she murmured, her lips brushing my shoulder. "You always know just what I need."

I rested my hand on her belly, feeling a gentle push from one of the babies.

Her hand joined mine, holding it there as she closed her eyes again, breathing deeper, letting herself relax fully.

The tiny movements under our hands were a reminder of everything we had, of what was coming.

Angela looked up, her eyes meeting my own in a way that made the rest of the world fade away.

Her lips found mine, and her fingers traced along my jawline to bring me even closer.

It seemed like the heat didn't matter anymore; nothing did but the way she leaned into me, asking for more.

When she pulled back, I could see the need inside her for something deeper.

She placed the cup back on the nightstand before kissing me again, her hands now tugging at my shirt.

Her fingers brushed against my skin as she removed it, sending shivers down my spine.

"Angie," I breathed when she kissed my neck. "Are you sure...? I don't want you to be too exhausted today..."

But she didn't stop, and instead pushed herself on her knees, trailing down to my collarbone with kisses.

Her hand ran to my stomach, all the way to where my pants were.

She gently shoved her hand inside my briefs, finding my member. "I'm sure. I need you..."

Without hesitation, she grabbed me, her hand sliding in an up and down motion.

I felt myself harden under her touch, eager to get me in the mood.

When she was satisfied, she pulled her own shirt off, revealing herself to me, then stripped herself out of her pants and panties.

"You're so beautiful, Angie..." I whispered, my hand instinctively reaching for her waist.

My wife finally peeled off my pants and briefs, the results of her previous teasing waiting for her.

She didn't waist any time. She sat on my lap, knees touching my thighs, before positioning herself on my erection.

I held onto her and she to me as our hips moved together, our lips meeting in another hungry kiss.

"Mm, I love you, Michael..."

"I love you too, Angela..."

~

Angela took another step down the stairs, holding her lower back as she did.

My hands hovered over her hips, ready to steady her if needed.

"Mike, I'm fine," she said, stopping. "Stop treating me like I can't walk..."

"I'm just being careful, Angie. Can't take risks right now."

"You didn't mind the risk earlier when I rode you..." she snickered.

Clearly, another one of her mood swings was coming.

I could feel myself blush, hoping no one was around to hear her joke.

Angela smirked, very much enjoying the tease, though her hand stayed firmly on her lower back as we continued down the stairs.

"Jeez, your kids are so heavy, Mike... Can't we just ask Dr. Grey to be induced tomorrow? I'm so tired." she almost begged.

"Only a few more weeks, babe," I reminded, running a hand over her shoulder, offering a light squeeze. "Besides, didn't Dr. Grey say it's better to let them decide when they're ready?"

Angela sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes when she reached the bottom of the stairs. "They're enjoying it too much in there, because they're taking their sweet ass time."

"Come on, let's get you comfortable at the table. If nothing else, maybe a nice meal will help." I said, taking her hand.

Everyone's heads turned our way when we entered the dining room, being the last ones to arrive at the table.

We were greeted by all of my siblings, and my nieces and nephews who ran to hug us, before I helped Angela sit next to my mother.

My wife settled into the chair with a relieved sigh, leaning back and giving my hand a grateful squeeze.

She flashed everyone a tired smile, her hand instinctively resting on her belly.

Mother leaned over with a warm smile. "How are you holding up, Angela?"

"Oh, just ready to not be carrying two little dancers around." Angela joked, earning a few chuckles from around the table.

My brothers made their usual playful comments, trying to make her laugh, while my sisters sent knowing looks, familiar with what she was feeling.

As everyone started serving plates, I piled extra food onto Angela's, wanting to make sure she got enough to keep her strength up.

She gave me an amused look, nudging me under the table.

"Mike, you know I'm only eating for three, not ten, right?"

"Just making sure." I grinned, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek.

She rolled her eyes but didn't stop me, grabbing her fork.

We all ate, conversation filling the air. Mother kept making Angela giggle with something she whispered.

Janet, who sat across from us, then leaned forward, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "So, Angela, are you ready for the sleepless nights?"

"Oh, I'm already up half the night, can't really get comfortable anymore." Angela replied.

Jermaine chimed in, smirking. "Yeah, but it's gonna be different once they're actually here. Michael will probably be off somewhere working, and you'll be the one handling two screaming babies."

The table fell silent, everyone taking in Angela's confused expression at my brother's accusation.

"What makes you think I won't be there?" I crossed my arms defensively.

"Come on, Mike. With your schedule?" Jermaine tried to reason.

"My schedule is cleared for the next four months."

That silenced him since he didn't expect that answer.

Angela blinked her tears away, and I knew something about Jermaine's comment really cut deep.

She was already anxious about every little thing being perfect for the babies, and although she knew I'd be there, there was that voice in her head that probably brought doubts.

And hearing it from one of my brothers definitely didn't help.

"Excuse me. I need to use the bathroom." she sniffled, standing up quickly.

"Angie-" I tried calling her, but she walked out too fast. I heard the guest bathroom shut close, making me sigh. "Jeez, Jermaine. Learn to shut up."

I stood to go after her, but mother grabbed my hand. "Give her a few minutes. I'm sure she needs it."

I nodded, letting her pull me back to sit.

In the corner of my eye, I saw Joseph slightly smack Jermaine on the back of his head.

Huh. That's odd. Why would Joseph care?

I ignored it, and kept eating, every now and then glancing towards the bathroom door.

~

It's been a little too long since Angela went to the bathroom.

Finally, with mother's approval, I made my way to it.

Gently, I knocked on the door. "Angie? It's me."

I didn't hear anything, except for a faint moan. Oh, no.

"Angie, can you open the door?"

"N- no."

"Why not?" I started to panic.

"I c- can't m- move... It hurts too much."

"What hurts?" I asked.

"I- I think I- I'm in labor...  A- and I have some bleeding..."

My palms felt sweaty as I heard her words. No, no, no...

"I'm gonna get my brothers, okay? Stay put." I ordered.

A pained laugh was heard. "It's not like I have any other option- Oh, God..."

Her groans got louder, making me race back to the dining room.

Joseph was the first one to see my face, and was on his feet instantly. "I have the key."

He hurried to the kitchen. I followed, walking in just as he found a set of keys in one of the cabinets.

We rushed back, my heart pounding as he fumbled with the keys, trying each one in the lock.

I held my breath, whispering a prayer until finally, the fifth key clicked.

The door swung open, and there she was, leaning against the wall, clutching her stomach.

A dark stain grew on her maternity dress, and my heart nearly stopped.

"Oh, thank God," she groaned. "I- I just sat down to pee, and- and I had this contraction... I looked, and I was bleeding, Mike... I think my water broke."

Joseph stayed put outside, "I'll call Bill."

Angela put her hands out to me, her eyes begging for me to help her.

Gently, I brought her to her feet, only for another contraction to start.

"Breathe, Ange... I got you. Let's go have our babies..." I kissed her temple before Bill showed up.

We made it into the car, and we drove off.

~

Angela walked around the hospital room, cradling her belly.

"Where is she...? I thought you said she's in town." she exhaled loudly.

"Dr. Grey is on her way, baby. Come lay down, please." I said.

"What if I'm all ready to push? I can't have these babies without her."

"You're not..."

"But what if I am? These contractions are the worst... Oh, I think another's one coming..."

Her breaths quickened as she put her hands out for me to take.

I obliged, letting her squeeze me as hard as she wanted.

A knock on the door was heard. Our doctor walked in, looking a bit tired. "I just landed when I got the call. You're in labor?"

"I think so..." Angela moaned.

Dr. Grey looked at her chart, then at the monitors, before smiling sympathetically.

"Can I check you?" she asked.

"Y- yeah..." my wife answered.

She held onto my shoulders as I helped her onto the bed, while the doctor propped her feet up on some stirrups.

Angela lifted her robe all the way to her chest for the doctor to examine her bump first.

She made a face when Dr. Grey touched her, clearly not liking it at all.

"Hmm, your abdomen hasn't dropped... I'm thinking this is another false alarm, but let me check your cervix..."

My face fell, "Another one?"

"It's not uncommon, Michael," Dr. Grey reminded me as she put on rubber gloves. "Where were you when contractions started?"

"At my parents' for lunch... With my entire family." I mumbled.

"Stress-inducing, I assume?"

I nodded shamefully, but she waved it off.

Angela grabbed my hand tightly again when Dr. Grey checked her, her whole body jolting in response.

"Did you two have any intercourse lately?" Dr. Grey asked, looking between Angela's opened legs.

My wife blushed, "This morning... And a few days ago."

"That might trigger contractions, too," the doctor explained. "There's no signs of labor, Angela. You're not dilated."

My heart dropped. I could see Angela's disappointment; she had been so ready to be done, to meet our babies, to put this all behind her.

But as Dr. Grey gave her a reassuring smile, reminding her this was just her body preparing, I felt my own shoulders relax.

"Why am I bleeding, then?" Angela questioned, still stubborn.

"I'll do an ultrasound to make sure nothing's wrong, but I'm assuming it's the contractions. It should stop soon." the doctor concluded.

Angela's expression only grew more annoyed. "So, what does this mean? Just more waiting?"

Dr. Grey nodded sympathetically while setting up the ultrasound. "Your body is preparing, Angela. These small contractions, these bursts of activity, are just signs that labor is on its way. When it does start, you'll know, I promise. In the meantime, don't strain your body too much... Sexual activity can wear you out."

Angela blushed deeper, and so did I.

Soon enough, our babies' strong heartbeats were heard.

I looked back at my wife's tired expression, leaning down to place a long kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes closed, and she let out a desperate sigh.

"Soon, Angie... I promise." I whispered against her.

~

15th of August, 1989
Michael is 30, Angela is 25

Michael: Angela shifted uncomfortably on the exercise ball, eyes narrowed my way as she rode out another wave of pain.

Maria's hands never left her shoulders, and she murmured softly in Italian, encouraging her to breathe, to let the tension go.

Both Rosa and Maria came by today, after Angela yelled at them over to phone to come help her with my birthday party.

Earlier, when I tried to rub her back during a contraction, she pushed me away with a sharp shove.

"Don't touch me, Michael. Just... Don't."

The words stung, but I knew she wasn't really angry at me. Not entirely.

Angela was frustrated - frustrated with this pregnancy, with how much her body was fighting against her, and probably with me for constantly asking her to let go of the party.

I thought I was helping, yet every time I told her to rest, I was just another reminder of all the things she couldn't control.

And Angela hated feeling like she couldn't handle something. It wasn't who she was.

My wife leaned into her mother's embrace, but when the contraction subsided, her gaze immediately found mine.

"Michael, cover your ears." she ordered.

I raised an eyebrow, "Angie, this is ridiculous..."

She didn't budge. "Michael Joseph Jackson, I said cover your ears."

There was no arguing with that look.

I glanced over at Maria, who offered me a sympathetic smile, then did as my wife told, watching her mouth instructions to Rosa.

She was whispering something about the cake, the flowers, and where to put the decorations, the ones she'd insisted on making herself.

Rosa gave her an irritated look but nodded anyways, while Angela ticked off items on her mental list with a stubborn focus that never ended, not even with these constant Braxton Hicks.

She'd been holding on to this idea for a couple months, since our honeymoon, meticulously organizing every detail.

And I knew, has I refused to do it back then, she'd still find a way to make it happen, even if I didn't want it.

After a moment, Angela turned back to me, giving a small nod.

I lowered my hands, letting out a long sigh, and I felt the worry creeping its way back.

I hadn't seen her rest for longer than a few minutes in days.

Even in the short nine months we've known each other, she's always been like this. So determined.

It was a quality I usually admired about her; it's what pushed me to go into rehab, pushed me to get better.

But this time, I wished she'd just let it go. For the babies' sake, and most importantly, her sake.

"Angela, I mean it. You can't keep planning this party. Let Rosa and your mom handle it," I urged, moving closer. "I don't want you exhausting yourself over something that can wait. No one expects you to be doing all this."

Her eyes rolled, but there was a familiar fierce stubbornness in them as she looked up at me.

"Michael, this isn't just any party. It's for you. I need this to be special- it has to be perfect. It's the least I can do, after everything you've done for me," she placed a hand on her belly, her fingers rubbing where our babies' feet were. "And I want our babies to be there, too. Besides, I can't cancel it now. Everyone RSVP'd."

Rosa cut in, crossing her arms. "Ange, you're barely able to stand sometimes with these contractions. Do you really think we're gonna let you keep planning an entire party?"

Angela rolled her eyes, again, but her reaction to her sister was different.

I could see the slightest smile tugging at her lips.

"Look, I'm not asking anyone to let me do anything. I'm asking you to help me get it done. I need something to distract me. All I do is sit here and wait and feel like I'm going to burst any second. It's driving me crazy!"

I reached out and took her hand, squeezing gently. "Angie, I know it's frustrating. But...We don't want you feeling like you have to do this for me. I just want you to rest."

A hint of something flashed in her eyes, like helplessness, and she looked away, her voice lighter now.

"Michael, it's the only thing that's keeping me sane right now. I need something to focus on besides just... Waiting. Everyone keeps telling me to rest, but there's nothing else for me to do! I need to feel like myself again, just for a little while."

I didn't know what to say. Her face had that expression that told me she was dead set on seeing this through, no matter what any of us said.

I knew my wife. She poured her heart into this, imagining every detail, picturing our family and friends together, celebrating me and the babies.

Everything had to be perfect. It's a stubborn trait we were both guilty of.

Her hand slipped from mine, and she reached up to brush away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

Oh, I didn't mean for her to cry...

My heart clenched, seeing the tension and the weight of all she'd been holding in.

She was trying so hard to stay strong, to keep control in a situation where so much was out of her control.

I knelt beside her, brushing a thumb over her cheek to catch a second tear.

"I get it, baby. I do. And I love you for all of this. But I want you to save your strength, not because I need a party, but because I need you. I don't want you running around trying to make everything perfect when you're already perfect."

Angela sniffled, and her eyes softened, just slightly, though her determination didn't fade. "I can't just sit here, Michael. I need to do this. I need it for me."

She looked up at her mom and sister. "Please, just... Don't tell him any of the details, okay? And I promise, once the final things are done, I'll step back and let the planner take over. But let me do this, just for a little longer. It's not like these babies are in a hurry to come, anyways. For all they care, they'll stay in there for another month."

Maria gave me a look, her hands resting on Angela's shoulders again.

She understood where Angela was coming from, and as much as I didn't like it, I knew there was no changing my wife's mind.

"I'm gonna get ready for bed," Angela announced, pushing herself up from the exercise ball with a lot of struggle. "No one follow me. I'm serious."

She pressed a hand to her lower back, her face scrunching as though another wave was about to start.

As she waddled towards the bedroom, all I could do was sigh, and pray for these babies to come already.