I couldn't stop staring at the two perfect little faces, both sleeping now after their initial cries. So tiny, so fragile, that I was afraid to move for fear of breaking them.

The baby in my left arm had a shock of silver hair, just like Tristan's. Their face was delicate, almost elfin, with the tiniest nose I'd ever seen.

The one in my right had lighter hair, softer features, but the same determined set to their chin that I saw every time I looked in the mirror.

"They're beautiful," Sarah ...