As the day passed, the house remained quiet, the crackling of the hearth the only sound breaking the stillness. Warmth filled the room, a stark contrast to the cold, anxious knot in Mary’s chest(the mother). The firstborn lay in her arms, his body barely moving, his large, unblinking eyes observing the world with an unsettling stillness.

Mary had spent most of the night watching him breathe--if you could even call it that. Each shallow rise and fall of his chest felt like a struggle, a battle she couldn’t fight for him. He was so fragile, so delicate. Her arms trembled as she held him closer, her fear gnawing at her: What if he can’t make it? What if he’s too weak to survive?

Her gaze wandered to John(the father), sitting nearby with the secondborn nestled in his arms. The secondborn, healthy and robust, already made his presence known with cries that echoed through the room. His tiny fists flailed, his energy boundless. John’s pride was unmistakable, his smile warm as he gently bounced the boy in his arms.

“Mary,” John said softly, his voice breaking through her thoughts. “What do you think about naming them?”

She looked up at him, startled, her hands instinctively tightening around the firstborn. “Naming them?” she echoed, her voice strained. “We… we should. But…” She hesitated, her eyes dropping back to the tiny face in her arms. “What if he… What if he doesn’t survive?”

John knelt beside her, his expression gentle but firm. “Mary,” he said, taking her hand, “he’ll be fine. Just give him time.” His gaze shifted to the secondborn, wriggling energetically. “We’ve already got one who’s full of life. The other… he just needs a little more time.”

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Her throat tightened. She wanted to believe him, but the fear was too heavy, too real. She looked back down at the firstborn, brushing a finger lightly over his fragile hand. He didn’t cry, didn’t move much at all. He only watched, his gaze quiet and searching.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to name him,” she murmured. “Not yet.”

John sighed softly, his hand resting on her shoulder. “It doesn’t have to be rushed, but naming them will give us something to hold onto. Something that’s theirs. Names make things real, Mary.”

As if sensing the tension, Leyna (the sister) skipped into the room, her wide eyes alight with excitement. “Can I name one?” she asked, her voice eager.

John chuckled, beckoning her closer. “Of course, little one. Do you have any names in mind?”

Leyna tilted her head, thinking hard. “Maybe… Kai!” she announced, her voice ringing with pride. “It sounds nice, doesn’t it?”

Mary managed a weak smile. “It’s a lovely name,” she said, though her heart wasn’t in it.

John, however, seemed ready to settle the matter. Looking down at the secondborn, his smile grew. “I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Theo. It’s strong. Steady. A name that will suit him well.”

Mary glanced at the secondborn. Theo. The name did feel fitting, she had to admit. She nodded slowly, though her eyes drifted back to the firstborn.

“What about him?” John asked gently.

She hesitated, her fingers tracing the curve of the firstborn’s tiny hand. His silence, his stillness--it frightened her, but there was something else, too. Something quiet but persistent, like a flicker of light in the dark.

“I think… I’ll name him Arlen,” she whispered.

John raised an eyebrow. “Arlen?”

Mary nodded, her voice steady despite the lump in her throat. “It means ‘a silent flame.’ Something fragile, but constant. A light that doesn’t falter, even when it’s small.”

John looked at the firstborn, his pride in Theo momentarily giving way to a softer emotion. For a long moment, he studied the boy’s face, and then he murmured, “Arlen. It’s fitting.”

Mary’s heart swelled with a fragile hope as she met John’s gaze. Leyna, sensing the gravity of the moment, clapped her hands. “So it’s Theo and Arlen!” she declared.

Mary smiled, brushing a kiss against Arlen’s soft hair. She held him close, the warmth of the fire seeping into her as the weight of the names settled over them. For the first time in days, she felt a glimmer of reassurance.

Theo. Arlen. The names felt like promises--a future, fragile and uncertain, but full of possibility.