Thank you to everyone for sticking with me through When We Were Young! This one definitely had a mind of its own, and ended up in a place I honestly did not expect going into it. It was really fun and also challenging at times. It was a really great experience! Thank you for your consistent feedback, as usual. And like always, I'll be back before you know it. I have other non-fic things I'm working on, but I already have the idea for my next multichapter. See you soon!

APRIL

"Hey, baby. Where are you?"

"At the bottom of the platform. Where are you?"

I walk down the stairs of the Fullerton station and see Jackson's back, smiling as I do. I hang up the phone and watch him look at his screen before trotting up and wrapping my arms around his waist.

"Jesus," he says, jumping. "You scared me."

"Got ya," I say.

"I thought I was about to get mugged," he says, then spins around and pushes my hair off my shoulder. "By a very tiny assailant."

"I'm not that tiny," I whisper, taking his hand as we start walking.

Today is October 1st, the twins' fifth birthday. So, we're on the way to pick them up from school and take them out for ice cream.

"How was rehearsal?" Jackson asks, nodding towards the light that changes so we can walk across the street.

Right now, I'm in a production of Matilda, as Miss Honey. Rehearsals are almost over, and opening night is next week. We're doing tech right now, perfecting everything. It's been a nice balance, now that the twins are in school all day. While they were babies, I took time off and spent my days at home. My life was 100% devoted to taking care of them. But now, it's more balanced.

"Good," I say. "We worked out some kinks. Fixed some stuff. I'm glad they let me off early, though."

"Me, too," he says.

We get to the girls' school around 3:30, just as class lets out. When each of the twins' teachers see us, they give a nod and go back inside to collect our daughters. Within moments, the two of them come rushing out with their arms extended, wild smiles on their faces.

"Mama! Daddy!"

They crash into our arms - Harper in mine, Stella in Jackson's, and wrap their arms tight around our necks.

"Happy birthday, babies!" I say.

"We had a birthday treat for me in my class," Stella says. "And everyone sang 'happy birthday.' I got to blow out candles! But just pretend. They weren't on fire."

"I had a party in my class, too!" Harper sings, jumping up and down while holding my hand. "We had chocolate cupcakes!"

"Ew," Stella says. "We had vanilla."

Last night, Jackson and I stayed up late baking two batches - we know the girls' specific, opposite tastes by heart.

"We're gonna take you guys out for one more treat today," Jackson says. "How does Sweet Mandy B's sound?"

The girls jump and cheer, letting go of our hands to race ahead along the fence, giving Jackson and me a chance to link hands again.

When we get to the bakery, the girls each get a bowl of ice cream and between the two of us, Jackson and I share a small box of chocolates.

I pick one up, and he takes it from me.

"You won't like that," he says. "It has marzipan. Here, have this. It's dark."

He pops it into my mouth and I smile, nodding my approval.

"Daddy, don't feed Mama," Stella says. "She's not a baby."

Jackson gives his daughter a silly look. "I can feed her if I want to," he says. "She's my wife, not yours."

"Yeah, but she's my mommy," Stella argues, playfully.

"Alright, little lawyer," Jackson says. "Beat this. I've known her the longest."

"I was inside her belly!" Stella insists, and leans forward to press the tip of her nose against her father's.

"Alright, you two," I say, rolling my eyes lightly.

"Are we celebrating a birthday over here?" an older woman says, and I look up to see her coming closer, wearing a pink apron and carrying a wrapped cookie.

"Two!" Harper says, sitting up on her knees.

"Oh, two birthdays?" the woman says.

"Yeah," Harper says. "It's both our birthday 'cause we're twins."

Stella wraps an arm around her sister's shoulders. There's a noticeable size difference - Stella is taller and stronger, with more muscle. Harper is a few inches shorter, more bony than muscular. Stella's eyes turned green like her father's, while Harper's stayed blue like her birth mother. The most obvious difference is their skin color, though that's not something that crosses our mind unless it involves sunscreen or lotion.

It's a stereotypical view to think that Stella's hair would be more difficult, but it's not. Her curls are soft, manageable, and cooperative. Harper's hair tangles with a stray gust of wind, and she'll scream like she's being murdered when I try and get a brush through it.

"Twins?" the woman says. "That's very cute. When I was little, I had a best friend who I called my 'twin,' too."

Harper's forehead crinkles in the way Jackson's does when he's frustrated. "No," she says, defiantly. "She's my sister."

"I'm just 47 minutes older," Stella says smartly.

A strange look flashes across the woman's eyes. "It's adorable," she says, looking to us. "That they think they're sisters."

Now, my face flames. Before that comment, I cut her a generous amount of slack. I was going to let the girls explain themselves. But now, I can't hold back.

"They are sisters," I say, standing. Jackson touches my hand, but I subtly flick his fingers away. "They're twins. Born 47 minutes apart, on the same day."

She's confused now. "That might be true, but the blonde one-"

"Is younger," I say, jaw clenched. "By 47 minutes. Thank you for the cookie." I take it from her and hand it to Harper, and she breaks it in half to share with her twin. I sit back down, my eyes stay on the woman. "We worked hard for our family. I'd appreciate if you'd stop passing judgements when you have no idea who we are."

As she walks away, Stella can't tear her eyes away from her and Harper is staring at me. Jackson is suddenly very concentrated on the assortment of chocolates in front of him.

"Mama got mad," Harper whispers.

"'Cause that lady said we aren't sisters," Stella says, flipping around to meet my eyes. "Right, mama? But she was wrong?"

"Of course she's wrong," Jackson says. I can hear the anger lacing his voice, too. But he's the type to stay quiet when he's upset, while I'm the opposite. "You two are twins. You know that. You should never let anyone make you think differently."

"It's 'cause I'm brown and Harper's pink," Stella says. "That's why the lady was saying that."

"Yes," I say.

"But it's 'cause I was 'dopted," Harper says. "Does that lady know?"

"No," I say. "And you shouldn't have to explain yourself. Okay, baby? You know you're just as much a part of this family as any of us. Adoption might not be biological, but it's legal. And you know how else you become related by something legal?"

Harper and Stella both chorus, "Getting married!" at the same time.

It's something I've told them again and again. Jackson and I wouldn't be 'related' if not for a legal document. There's no blood between us, but that doesn't mean anything. Just because there's no blood between Harper and the rest of us doesn't make her any lesser. And she knows this.

"Exactly," I say.

The girls keep eating, and Stella starts in on a story about something that happened to her at school. Harper stays quiet though, pushing her dessert around with a spoon.

"You okay, baby boots?" Jackson asks, reaching over and touching Harper's hair.

She shrugs and says, "Yeah."

Stella stops talking and looks over. "Sissy's sad," she says.

"I don't like that lady," Harper mutters, setting her spoon down. "I wanna go home."

Stella stands up, though she's not finished, and puffs out her chest. "We wanna go home," she announces.

Jackson and I agree, and we gather our things. Instead of going home, though, we stop at a park and enjoy the weather while it lasts, and Harper brightens up a bit.

"I have a letter for you," I tell her, moving a bit of hair out of her eyes. She's lying sideways with her head on my stomach, rising and falling as I breathe. "From your birth mom. Do you wanna hear it?"

She looks at me, blue eyes pensive. Jackson and Stella are off playing on the monkey bars, laughing loudly. It's just the two of us here in this quiet moment.

"Yeah," she says.

I start reading out loud.

"Dear Harper," I say. "Happy birthday. I can't believe you turned five! Time is flying by so fast. Your mommy sends me pictures of you sometimes. You are so beautiful, even more than I imagined."

I look at her to see if that got a smile, but she sits stone-faced.

"I've heard a lot about what you've done this past year. Learned how to read, and gotten brave on a two-wheeled bike. That's awesome. I'm really proud of you. I didn't learn how to ride a two-wheeler until I was 9, so you're way ahead of me."

She smiles a tiny bit at that.

"I went back to school this year to get what's called a master's degree. I guess I'm smarter than I thought. I think having you made me realize that, in some weird way. I don't really understand that, so I don't expect you to."

I pause, skimming over what little that's left.

"If you ever want me to stop sending letters, just tell your mama and I'll stop. I'll do whatever you're comfortable with. I want the best for you, Harper. And you're getting that with your parents. And remember, they chose you. They love you with their whole heart. I knew April. And she'd cross the ocean for you."

I smile at the last part, then look up to see Harper watching me.

"Is that the end?" she asks.

I nod. "Did you like it?"

She sighs, then turns towards me. "I don't know. I like you better, mommy. I only want you as my mommy." She crawls up and wraps her arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

"Do you not want Sophia to send you letters anymore?" I ask.

She doesn't respond. She's barely five, she doesn't know. I don't blame her for being overwhelmed. She's experienced a lot of feelings for one day.

"We can figure it out later, sweetheart," I say, stroking her back.

She turns over and lies in the crook of my arm, staring up at the sky in the same way I am. She raises her hand and blocks out the sun, and I copy her movements.

"Look, mommy," she says, lining her arm up with mine. "We have the same freckles."

"We do, don't we," I say, examining along with her.

"How come I have your same skin, but you're not my birth mommy?" she asks.

We lower our arms and I pull her closer to my side. "You weren't in my tummy with Stella," I say. "But you know what? I found out about you on the same day. Sophia picked me and your daddy to be your parents. We got picked, how exciting is that? And you and Stella grew side-by-side, because I spent a lot of time with your birth mom. I talked to you while you were in her belly, so you heard my voice all the time. And you were born just down the hall. You heard Daddy's voice right before you came into the world. And when you opened your eyes and looked at us, the world stopped," I say.

"What if you didn't pick me, though?" she asks, worried.

"That would never happen," I say. "If I could go back, I'd do it a million times over. I'd pick you again and again and again, baby boots."

"Sissy!" Stella shouts, interrupting our moment as she races towards us. "Come on! Daddy's gonna catch a butterfly!"

With a giggle, Harper pushes away from me and runs off, following in the footsteps of her twin, who's 47 minutes older.

…

That night after we put the twins to bed, Jackson is brushing his teeth and singing as he goes.

"Jamie is over, and Jamie is gone…"

I narrow my eyes and smack his butt. "Don't," I say.

"What?" he says.

"That was two shows ago," I joke. "Get new content."

He smiles around his toothbrush and spits into the sink. "Excuse you, Cathy in The Last Five Years is one of my favorites you've done."

"Shut up," I say. "You hated that show."

"I really did," he says. "So much singing. You guys do know you can talk, right?"

I laugh, throwing my head back. "When are you gonna let this go?" I ask.

He winds an arm around my waist and meets my eyes in the mirror as I brush my hair. "Never," he says. "Jamie's decided it's time to move on…"

"Stop singing!" I giggle, and pretend to hit him with the hairbrush.

He hurries out of the room though, and I meet him in bed once I'm done with my routine. He's sitting up, glasses halfway down his nose, on his phone.

"Enough with your emails," I say, crawling in next to him. I reach and take his phone, then turn the screen black. "They can wait. Your hours are up for the day."

He smiles and lays down, welcoming me to his side. I rest a hand on his chest and loop my fingers in half-hearted circles, thinking more about what's in my head than how my hands are moving.

"Did Harper seem a little off to you today?" Jackson asks, voicing my thoughts exactly.

I nod instantly. "She was all in her head," I say.

"Wonder who she gets that from," he murmurs lightly.

I prop myself up on an elbow. "I don't think she wants to hear from Sophia anymore," I say. "You know how we read that letters can help kids feel connected to their birth parents?"

He nods.

"Well, I don't think she wants to feel connected to Sophia. I think she wants to be close to us, and that's it."

His eyebrows furrow. "Does she not feel close to us right now?"

"No, no, I don't think that's it," I say. "I think she's afraid that one day, we'll give her back or something."

He's genuinely troubled by this, I can tell by how his expression changes. I am, too. It's not something Harper has told me outright, but I can't stop analyzing her actions from earlier. She was upset by the woman in Sweet Mandy B's, and confused by the letter from Sophia.

"I just don't think she wants to acknowledge that she's different," I say. "I think sometimes, she feels out of place."

"Did she say that?"

I shake my head. "No," I say. "But she didn't like Sophia's letter."

"Was it bad?"

"Not at all," I say. "It's in my purse. You can read it tomorrow. It was fine, it was nice."

He sighs. "Do you think she feels distant from Stella? You know, because strangers are always separating them."

The woman in Sweet Mandy B's wasn't the first, and she won't be the last.

"I don't know," I say. "I hope not. I don't know."

We sit in silence for a while, both of us stewing, neither coming to any conclusions.

"We should go check on them," he says. "I just wanna…"

"Yeah," I agree.

We tiptoe down the hall to the girls' room, where the nightlight is still on. It casts enough light to see clearly, to notice that Stella's bed is empty and Harper's is doubly as full.

I soften as I see the two of them together, Stella's arm thrown over her sister's waist, her face buried in tangled blonde hair. They're breathing at the exact same rate. Stella is sucking her thumb, Harper on her two middle fingers. In this moment, they are so reminiscent of their infant selves that I can barely handle it.

Jackson takes my hand. Through the darkness, he whispers, "We're gonna be okay."

…

On the opening night of my show, I'm sitting in my dressing room looking at my reflection in the vanity mirror. I've been looking in these for years, but the same face never looks back. I've changed so much with each show I've been in. So much so, that sometimes it's hard to remember where I began.

When I started in White Christmas, there were no pictures in the mirror. I avoided looking at myself and let the hair and makeup team do all the work. But as time passed, that changed.

During Sense and Sensibility, there were pictures of Jackson and me lining the frame. Ones from the beach, selfies from home, photos of him alone that he never knew I took. Back then, our relationship was the center of my world. I revolved around it, until I lost him.

Then, for a long time, the mirror stayed empty. I didn't fill it with selfies of myself and Andrew, or any pictures at all. I kept my home life at home and my work life at work. But now, once again, they're integrated.

As I gaze forward now, I see a picture of Harper and Stella as 11-month-olds, both standing on wobbly legs. Both had taken their first steps that day with Jackson behind them, stomping the ground before tumbling into my arms and laughing along with our cheers.

Above that is a wedding photo, a candid. It's somewhat blurry, but one I've always loved. It's a shot that Addison took of Jackson and me during our first dance, my head on his chest, his arms resting low on the small of my back like he doesn't want me any further than I was in that moment. When I look at it, I can practically hear 'The Luckiest' by Ben Folds playing.

Then, there's the girls on the first day of school. Arms wrapped around each other, they were three years old and headed to preschool. Harper had been scared out of her mind, and that fear is visible in her eyes. But Stella was steadfast, holding strong to her sister's hand even after we left the classroom. Jackson and I cried that day, too, but only after we were out of their sight.

The most recent photo was professionally taken. The four of us are standing in front of a wall decorated with a sparkling mosaic, smiling for the camera. Stella is on my hip while Harper is on Jackson's, and the girls are laughing about something I can't remember. Jackson isn't looking at the lens, either, he has his eyes on me. Which makes me think I must have been the one to say something funny.

Interrupting my nostalgia, there's a knock on the door.

"Who is it?"

"Us!"

The door comes open with Stella leading the way, Jackson bringing up the rear with Harper. He's holding something behind his back, and so are the girls.

"Hey, guys!" I say, excitedly. "I didn't know you were here already."

"We came to surprise you!" Harper says, her little voice high and sweet.

"We got presents for you, mommy," Stella says. "But we can't show you 'til after you're done."

I laugh a bit and nod, watching Jackson covertly take what's behind their backs and put it where I can't see.

"Are you gonna be on that big stage?" Harper asks, crawling onto my lap.

Stella soon joins her, and they fit perfectly sitting on either leg. I'm only dressed in tights and a cardigan, but they're used to it.

"I sure am," I say.

"Mommy's famous," Stella says, which makes Harper giggle for some reason.

"Are you guys excited to see the show?" I ask, and they both nod.

"You nervous, baby?" Jackson asks.

I shrug and shake my head. "Nah," I say. "Definitely not, now that I got a chance to see you guys."

He smiles and leans down to kiss my forehead. The girls watch him, then copy his movements, laughing while pressing their lips to my forehead, keeping their balance with a hand on either of my shoulders.

"April, are you in costume?" the stage manager calls, and I widen my eyes at my husband and daughters.

"I better get going," I whisper conspiratorially. "Or else I'm gonna get in trouble!"

The girls clamber off my lap, but not before I give them a huge hug. I stand and do the same for Jackson, and he holds my face while pecking my lips delicately so not to mess up my stage lipstick.

"I can't wait to see it, honey," he says.

I smile at him, touching the tip of his nose with mine.

"Break your leg, mommy!" Stella says, being led out of the room with her hand in Jackson's.

Harper grips the other one, looking back over her shoulder, too. "Break the leg, mama!"

I giggle and wave them goodbye, then finish getting ready.

…

The performance goes wonderfully. It was executed perfectly, a great example of how seamlessly a cast can work together. After I quickly congratulate everyone on a successful opening night, I hurry to find my family, still in costume.

I hear their voices before I see them, so I break into a jog. Jackson catches my eye first as he looks up, then smiles and stretches out his arms so I can fly into them.

"Mommy!" the girls chorus, while Jackson spins me around.

When he sets me down, I'm breathless. I kneel and wrap the girls in a big hug, squeezing them tightly while they make funny choking noises.

"You were famous, mama!" Harper says, pulling back a bit to look into my face.

Stella gasps. "Remember! Our presents! Bootsy, our presents! We have to give them to her."

"Oh, yeah!"

All at once, gifts are presented to me. Jackson hands me a bouquet of beautiful flowers, and the girls each have a bag of M&Ms in hand.

"Flowers and candy," Jackson says, beaming. "Just like always."

My eyes well up as I press my hand to my heart. "Oh, you guys," I say, then give my husband another huge hug and a kiss. "Thank you."

"Daddy said he always used to bring you these presents when he saw your plays," Harper says.

"He did," I say, giving him a warm look. "He always did."

Since the first time Jackson came to my show and presented me with what he knows I love most, my life has changed drastically. During White Christmas, I was new to Chicago and scared out of my mind. I wondered if I would make it in theater, or if I would flop and have to move back home to Ohio.

That night Jackson came to see my show was the night we slipped over the edge. Lying in each other's arms after everything that happened, we fell in love. I knew it for a fact then, and I know it now. I don't have to try and remember how that felt, wrapped up in him for the first time; it's still so clear. It was like bathing in honey.

Now, every night is like that. Now, love is around every corner whether it's from him or my daughters. I live in a nice house and have an established career. I control my professional decisions and make them for myself. And at home, mine and Jackson's partnership is the solid foundation we all stem from.

Now, instead of going home to a drafty studio apartment, I go home to screaming, laughing, loving kids and a devoted husband. When work gets to be too much, I take a break. Family always comes first, and I've gotten much better at separating the two. I haven't been overwhelmed to the point of panic for years. Having children has made me more stable than I ever knew possible.

But in all the ways my life has transformed, Jackson has stayed the same. Through it all, he's by my side. Sometimes I lead, and other times he does. We're partners in every sense of the word, each other's rocks and support systems. We try to be the best husband, the best wife, the best parents, that we can.

It's strange to think how far we've come. Our lives are mature and well-rounded. We have everything we worked for, and the outcome was worth every instance of pain.

And some nights, he'll look at me with a glint in his eye reminiscent of the one he always used to have. On nights where we came together like a song, flowed like a movie, had no worries to speak of. He'll look at me through those glasses I love, and in that moment, all those years come back. And I'll be reminded of when we were young.