Chapter Text
Triggers: Brief, non-graphic mentions of alcohol and childbirth (not at the same time), mentions of hospitals and surgical procedures, frequent discussion of stillbirth/lose of life of a newborn
‘So far, so good.’
South Park, Colorado had single-handedly been the best decision Sheila had made in her adult life so far, without a doubt. A culture shock she hadn’t known she needed, it was like stepping into a fantasy world. Everything from the quiet winter mornings to the incredible mountain air made her feel refreshed and renewed. Peace like this was impossible to achieve in her hometown of Newark.
The mottled green house had belonged to Gerald for a little while, his mother Miriam moving out to a small condominium nearby after both her sons had graduated and gone off to college. Though a little bit more frail than the last time they saw each other, she insisted she be there to help them move in, taking it upon herself to help put smaller boxes in the kitchen with Sheila’s mother, Cleo. Gerald and his brother Murray were thumping up and down the stairs in repeated trips to the moving van, joking loudly with one another about something they had seen on the news the week before.
Admittedly, there wasn’t much that Sheila actually could do at the moment. As soon as everything had been brought into the house, she and Gerald would see to setting everything up the way they had planned to, but even then she would have to stay cautious. Not that she minded the reason; this was the start of a new chapter, one that they were intent on keeping safe from anything that may stand in their way.
They had gone through too much to get to this moment. Too much to jeopardize it now.
For the time being, she occupied herself with small trinkets from one of the kitchen boxes, arranging them neatly on the windows. Her favorite set of crystal glasses, a framed photo from the night she and Gerald had gotten engaged, a ship in a bottle, some preserved seashells from trips to Cape Cod… most of this stuff would eventually find a more permanent home, but for now, Sheila liked the way the thin sheaves of glass caught the sunlight just right.
Funny. Some strange, unnameable emotion began to stir. She wasn’t used to seeing these glasses outside of her parents house, where they had been lined up on a special shelf above the spice rack. Given as a wedding gift five years ago, and saved for when they had their own house. They never saw sunlight at the angle they were placed in back then, but they had looked familiar until now.
Maybe it was because Sheila hadn’t expected to go so far away. Moreso, because she hadn’t expected to want to leave so badly. Caught off guard by the sudden rush of emotions, she took a step back from what she was doing, taking a moment to breathe deeply. Still, she couldn’t help thinking over everything just by glancing at those glasses.
Turning away slightly, memories began to invade her train of thought, memories of her mother teaching her how to cook at the stove she had scrubbed till it shone. Of her father in his younger years, rushing through the door after a hard day’s work to scoop up both of his little girls as they welcomed him home. Of Chanukah celebrations and games of dreidel against her sister, her mother’s tears of joy at her high school graduation, sneaking back into the house drunk and bruised after another bar fight, where her father was waiting with food, water and no judgement.
Could she be regretting her decision, before they had even fully moved in? She hoped not. She hoped the more intense feelings were… something else .
Hurriedly, she wiped away the hints of tears that had formed, not wanting anyone else to see them. Glancing over to the window again, Sheila saw her father looking out in awe at the towering mountains that wove around the town like a perfect ring, providing an astounding view to anyone inhabiting the area. She remembered Gerald telling her it was like a switch had been flipped the first time he had taken her to the town of his birth; she had pined for an environment like this ever since.
“Beautiful, isn’t it Daddy?” Sheila asked, placing her hands on the windowsill and leaning forward as she strode up to join him.
“It’s… different , I guess,” Nathaniel Broflovski grunted out heavily after a moment of contemplation, struggling to find the right wording. Tall, heavy and imposing, with a deep, grumbly voice, one would expect him to be harsh, but he had always been a cheerful man, always smiling and full of jokes. “Not quite what I expected… you sure you won’t miss being able to hit the beaches?”
“You mean those cesspools full of drunks?” Sheila quipped, shaking her head. “I don’t think so.”
She knew what he was getting at without even asking. He was nervous about his oldest daughter being so far away from the rest of the family, that she might have been making another reckless decision like the ones she made throughout high school and college. She knew he would rather she stayed close by, like her sister Sam, who had made her way to a nice town outside of Hartford, all gingerbread-esqe houses and trees that burned a splendid orange in the autumn. But she also knew her father, and she knew he would never say a single bad word about her decision, no matter his qualms.
He chuckled at her response, shaking his head slowly. “I get it, I’m not a big fan of those nutcases either. It’s just…” He paused for a moment, looking down at his weathered hands, sucking in an oddly heavy breath. “I… gosh, it’s gonna be strange not having you around after you’ve been home for so long. Ma and I are gonna miss you, honey.”
Even though she was trying not to show it, almost instantaneously she felt herself begin to choke up. There was absolutely no way she would miss the nastiness and filth of the city she had grown up in, but her family was a different story.
Leaving Newark behind was absolutely the right decision, but Nathaniel had a good point; leaving everyone she knew and loved behind wouldn’t be easy to stomach. They had seen her through the best and worst times, and their support meant more to her than they would ever know. It was made even more difficult by the fact that no matter how grimy her hometown was, had certain events played out differently, the young couple might have been fine with remaining where they were.
“Oh, Daddy…” Sheila said softly, reaching out to hug him tightly. “I’m going to miss you and Ma more than anything in this world. But you know why Gerald and I couldn’t stay there any longer, right?”
He hummed low in response, nodding slightly against the top of her head. “I do, honestly, I do. And I know you and Gerald are in terrible pain, which is why I understand your decision to move. What’s that old saying… ‘Changing the Scenery?’... dunno, it’s something like that… anyway, it might be just what you kids need.”
Understanding was something that had come easy between Sheila and her parents. She was frank and open with them since childhood, even during her hardest years, so she knew they had her back, despite any worries about distance. “Yeah, that’s what’s gonna be best for the two of us. Gerald and I are gonna settle in, and then once we do, we’ll come and visit as much as possible, okay Daddy?”
With only a small smile to give away the bittersweet emotions brewing inside him, Nathaniel stoically nodded. “Perfect, absolutely perfect. You two take all the time you need, and we’ll do the visiting for now until you’re ready to.”
That was good. That was what she needed. And she wouldn’t be alone by any means either, with Gerald and his family here, and them knowing just about everyone in the tiny town was a bonus. She would get to know people, make friends, get involved with different activities in the community, and while the longing for her hometown wouldn’t completely disappear, it would dim over time.
For now, there were other things to worry about. No matter how much she loved South Park as an idea , now that she was a resident, everything was unfamiliar. She would have to start compartmentalizing, figuring out where she liked to go, how she would fill the long hours of the day, and taking note of who to trust…
A loud chorus of greetings became audible through the window panes, prompting Sheila and Nathaniel to turn and take a look outside. Gerald and Murray were excitedly chatting with a man Sheila had never seen before, evidently someone they knew. All three were laughing and animatedly waving their hands as they spoke, eager to catch up with one another. After a moment, Miriam exited the kitchen to see what they were watching, Cleo trailing behind her.
“Oh, Lord, what are those two up to now?” Miriam muttered in amusement, shaking her head at her boy’s actions as if they were rowdy teenagers and not full-grown adults. She started towards the front door, wobbling slightly with her off-centered gait.
“Here, Miriam, I’ll see what’s going on. You guys stay in here where it’s warm,” Sheila said as she stepped out into the frigid November air, slight shivers running down her arms under her cardigan.
Gerald and Murray were standing at the edge of their front yard, clearly beckoned over by their old acquaintance, all three shadowed by the identical house that stood next to the Broflovski’s, only painted teal instead of green. The man was about Gerald’s height, with slightly unkempt, stringy black hair down to his shoulders, brown eyes, and a small moustache. He wore a worn-out sweatshirt, held a large rake, and stood next to a large leaf pile.
“So you own the house now?” The mustached man questioned, setting the rake up against the fence bordering both their backyards.
“Yup! It’s been in my name since Mom moved out,” Gerald confirmed, gesturing to the moving van. “My wife and I are moving in today, then my in-laws fly back out of state next week, the Monday after Thanksgiving.”
“Man, that’s awesome that we get to be neighbors! I never thought I’d see both Melberg brothers back in town again,” The man said.
At the mention of the surname, Murray began to laugh. “Actually, it’s Broflovski now, Gerry here took the wife’s last name!”
Gerald rolled his eyes at his brother’s antics. “I know it’s not really traditional , but we both agreed it flowed a bit better – hey, speaking of which, this is my wife Sheila!”
Stepping forward at the cue, Sheila smiled warmly. “Well hello there! My name’s Sheila, nice to meet you!” She stuck out her hand to shake, and the other man shook it vigorously.
“Nice to meet you too, I’m Randy Marsh. I was a few grades above Gerald in school, but we’ve known each other since we were younger. He was actually in the same grade as my wife Sharon, they were friends in high school!” Randy said enthusiastically.
“Wow, Sharon?! You married Sharon Kimble?” Gerald asked in surprise. “That’s awesome, how are you guys doing?”
Randy beamed as he spoke. “We’re doing great! It’s been four years now, we’ve got a little girl Shelley; she’s gonna turn two tomorrow so we’re really excited about that. And we’re thinking about having a second kiddo soon!”
The front door of the Marsh household flew open, and out barreled a tiny girl with the messiest brown pigtails Sheila had ever seen, sky-blue eyes brimming with excitement as she screeched, “LEAF PILE!”
Before her father could even turn around, she flopped down right into the mess, sending leaves up into the air to twirl back down into a scattered mess on the ground. Randy turned and laughed, hands in his back pockets as he watched the chaos unfold, and Sheila had to resist the urge to drape herself over the fence and sigh in joy. She’d been an emotional wreck a few times earlier in the day, but seeing a happy family next door only confirmed her intuition that Gerald’s hometown would be the best place to settle down and start a family of their own.
The final member of the Marsh household, the one who matched Sheila herself best, stumbled down the steps, sleeves rolled up, darkened, and dotted with suds. “Oh, honey, maybe later! Daddy’s trying to pick those up!”
“Nah, she can play for now, Sharon, we’ve got bigger fish to fry! Look who’s home!” He threw an arm around Gerald and gestured to him as though he were the hottest new thing in town. Sheila supposed that in a town as small as South Park, her and Gerald were the talk of the town.
Sharon gasped, her face lighting up. “Oh my gosh, Gerald! I haven’t seen you since…since…” she looked lost in thought before gasping and laughing, her hands flying to her cheeks. “Gosh, it must’ve been the 2nd Annual Drunken Barn Dance!”
“Oh man, I went to the 12th Barn Dance last month, everyone was so drunk they kept asking if I was you, Gerry!” Murray guffawed, bending over in a fit of laughter.
“Geez, did they?” Gerald asked incredulously, before turning back to the Marshes. “Hey, why don’t you guys come inside for a bit? We can catch up while Murray and I keep unloading the van.”
Within a minute, the house was bustling with more activity now that everyone was inside. Greetings were exchanged between Sheila’s parents and the neighbors, and Miriam set about making everyone some tea, happy to have guests. Randy joined Gerald and Murray in the retrieval of more furniture, while Sharon stayed inside to watch Shelley and take a tour of the house with Sheila, during which they slowly got around to some icebreakers. Like Gerald, Sharon had lived in this town all her life, but wouldn’t go too far into details about her family, besides that she had a half-brother whom she was very close with. She had gone to college for marketing, and had met Randy there after he had switched schools, reconnecting once they were both back home.
“Careful baby girl, some of this stuff is expensive,” Sharon said softly, carefully guiding Shelley towards the center of the living room when she spotted the objects on the windowsill. Taking quick, wobbly steps, Shelley toddled over to the sofa and hoisted herself. From the doorway of the kitchen, Cleo gave her an enthusiastic wave, and watching the little girl give a wide, uncoordinated wave back melted Sheila’s heart.
“Oh, she’s so precious…” she muttered under her breath, catching Sharon’s attention.
“I know, it’s gonna be difficult in January once I start my new job, she’s gonna have to go to daycare,” Sharon sighed, smiling as her daughter interacted with the older woman. Cleo loved children, and had been waiting very patiently to become a grandmother… it was a longing Sheila had openly shared for quite some time now.
“What’s it like?” Was her next question, drawing Sharon’s attention. “Being a mom?”
Even without context, the unspoken undertones of wishful thinking were audible to the young mother. An earnest smile graced her face as she thought about her response, only growing wider as she answered.
“It’s… damn , I don’t have the words for a comparison,” Sharon said, lacing and unlacing her fingers as she spoke. “I asked before Shelley was born, and I hated it when people gave me vague, cookie-cutter answers, but it’s hard to put into words how it feels to look at a tiny person that you created and that you love so so much. It’s like the world gets bigger.”
Shelley babbled out a song while gripping the shiny, round button of Cleo’s cardigan, her rosy cheeks shining as she bounced up and down. Sheila sat next to Sharon, who seemed to be getting more comfortable.
“You think you know everything, and then they go and teach you things about the world, and about yourself that you never knew,” Sharon continued. “You may not understand them sometimes, you may mess up while doing your best, heck, you might not always be having fun, but at the end of the day, they make life richer.”
… It took everything in Sheila not to admit why she asked.
She just blushed and nodded, one hand resting over her stomach in joyful and (very temporary) peace. Gerald and her were the only ones who knew so far, the only ones with knowledge of the unspoken participant in the conversation. They had yet to stir, or make their presence known, too small right now to make a physical impact. But to Sheila, the little spark of life she carried inside of her meant the entire world and beyond. Whoever they were, whomever they would become , would be the focus of her and Gerald’s future.
Before she knew it, the impromptu visit was over, and the Marshes were heading back home. Sharon aided Shelley in giving a little wave goodbye on their way out the door, promising to get together again for the weekend after Thanksgiving, when everything was a little bit less chaotic. Once the door was closed, Gerald chuckled.
“That’s gonna be us this May,” he whispered, so their parents wouldn’t pick up on the words.
“Seven months away… are we going to be ready?” Sheila asked.
Gerald pulled her close and planted a kiss on her forehead, snuggling his nose into the nexus point of her ruby hair, the center of her head. Hands on her hips, he smiled knowingly and nodded. “I think we’ve been ready for a long time now,” he muttered, glancing down at the spot where there would inevitably be a bump, sooner or later. “I can barely wait.”
“I wonder who it is in there sometimes, you know,” she murmured, pressing her chest against his and settling into his hold. “What they’ll be named, who they’ll look like…”
“What they’ll do in life?” Gerald prompted with a grin.
Sheila shrugged, settling into a blissful demeanor as she began to daydream of what motherhood would bring. “Something like that… all I know is that whatever they do… they’ll make their mama very proud.”
‘Was waiting this intense last time?’
It had been some time since Sharon had felt the urge to bite her nails. She was absolutely certain that habit had been left behind in high school, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see her trembling fingers inching closer and closer towards her face. On the counter, the egg-shaped timer she had hastily snatched from the kitchen countertop was ticking away its precious seconds, bringing her closer to her fate, and beside it, a small, unassuming stick.
The last time she had taken a pregnancy test, Randy had been standing beside her for the results. Waiting had been hell, scanning every few seconds for the appearance of a second blue line. Both were anxious, and had taken a moment to breathe deeply and recenter themselves, before they glanced back at the test for a split second, only to gasp loudly in unison when they saw the faint second line. After that, they began to jump and scream, nearly tumbling to the floor when they rushed into a hug.
But now?
She was alone. Randy was off at work, and he would be picking up Shelley from the daycare she had been attending for almost two months now. Her little girl had loudly meandered through the morning before being dropped off, slowly eating dry Cheerios from a stray tupperware and oblivious to Sharon fighting to keep her own breakfast down as she packed her lunch.
‘Baffling’ was the only word she could use to describe this frustrating development. For almost a week she had steadily been feeling sicker by the day, and she couldn’t for the life of her figure out what was wrong until she went to make her own lunch almost an hour ago, desperate to keep something down. Retrieving the bread and ham had caused no issues, but when she opened the bag of sliced cheese, it triggered a massive wave of nausea, sending her sprinting through the living room, to the downstairs bathroom to be sick.
And that was when it clicked .
While pregnant with Shelley, she couldn’t stand certain vegetables like brussel sprouts or squash, barely even able to look at them without feeling ill. There was almost no question about it, she felt for sure that she was pregnant again. But of course she couldn’t know without a test, and without hesitation she had dashed to her car in order to get to the store, feeling something akin to a sense of dread creeping down her spine.
Now here she was, and the countdown was underway. Settled on the little floor-rug next to the bathtub, sitting with her elbows resting on her knees and her chin in her hands, trying to push down the growing sense of unease welling up in her stomach. Resisting the urge to put her head between her knees, breaths coming and going much too quick for comfort.
‘Why do I feel like I’m about to panic?!’ She asked herself, wrestling with the fact that her reaction wasn’t logical in the slightest. ‘We’ve been wanting another baby, I should be so fucking happy right now! What is this?!’
Quickly, she tried to rack her brain for any reasonable answer to her sudden apprehension. Maybe it was the flesh memories of her rough first pregnancy coming back to haunt her, things she had locked away after Shelley was born. Harsh morning sickness that no one could sugar coat into ‘no big deal’, pounding headaches slipping into her temples that Randy would have to massage away, an ache in her back that persisted even as she dreamt.
As happy as she was to be having a baby at all, carrying Shelley had been a nightmare . There was never a moment of peace, and it all accumulated once the big day arrived. Randy had very nearly crashed the car trying to get to Hell’s Pass Hospital after Sharon’s water had broken, then insisted she needed a wheelchair when she probably didn’t need one, only for her to walk in herself while he was busy picking out ‘the right one’. Hours passed with no sign of the baby, and once enough time had passed, they decided to whisk Sharon away into a C-Section.
It might have been the single most terrifying moment of her life. The idea that her baby could be in danger made her so sick, and the need to have Shelley in her arms intensified. So she filtered out everything; the doctors, the machines, even the sound of Randy’s voice, until the sound she had been waiting for so patiently arrived at last. The sound of her daughter’s first cry.
This last memory startled her somewhat, making her do a double-take as she reassessed what had transpired. But it wasn’t recalling what happened that was so unexpected. No, it was the memory of how she felt , that made her jump. The realization that she had just as much anxiety in this very moment, that she did when waiting to hear Shelley for the first time.
Regardless, it gave no explanation to what was eating at her so ferociously. And that was precisely what she wanted to find out before getting the results.
‘Three minutes to go.’
Holy shit… one baby had been relatively difficult to manage, but two would certainly throw them for a loop. Even with Randy’s help, neither really had any idea how to parent multiple children, with Randy himself being an only child. And Sharon…
Well, she certainly wasn’t about to ask her own parents.
Growing up in South Park for Sharon Kimble had been turbulent, to say the least. As a young girl, she could remember being inquisitive in regards to her odd little family dynamic. Her parents had been idyllic, presenting as a perfect couple almost to a fault, but there was always something simmering under the surface during family dinners, board-game tournaments, and bedtime stories. It was almost like a sense of awkwardness, a feeling that there was something incredibly wrong with the picture, but no one could quite name what it was.
Out in the tight-knit community, it was even stronger. At church, people would quiet down a little when Sharon and her parents arrived, conversation turning to something of a hushed whisper. She could feel eyes trailing on her as she skipped around in the grocery store after her mother, and her friend’s parents would give her too-big smiles when she showed up at their doorsteps for playdates, almost as if fighting down judgement.
Weekends were always Sharon’s favorite days, because that was when her older half-brother Jimbo would visit. Jimbo Kern was something of a best-friend to Sharon, even with the fourteen year age gap, and would never pass up the opportunity to spend time with her. Despite being into things like hunting and the army, he would set those aside for the day to indulge in whatever game toddler-aged Sharon had invented with her toys, usually involving a barrage of girly stuffed animals, pony figurines, and Barbie dolls.
But even Jimbo exhibited odd behavior, which Sharon never failed to notice. Even from a young age, she understood that her mom had been married to someone else before her dad, Jimbo’s father. That wasn’t the odd thing however– what was really strange was the fact that Jimbo would never even interact with his own mother when over at their house. Sharon was given all of his attention, while he would only spare their mom a singular glance at each visit. Barely any words would be exchanged between the two, and they never made eye contact.
It was confusing for Sharon when she was young, but there was never a right opportunity to ask. Jimbo graduated when Sharon was four, immediately going into the military, which he had sent his sights on from a young age. Three years later, when he returned, things were the same, but also very different. Vietnam had changed him in many ways… most notably by bringing Ned Gerblanksy into his life. Right from the moment Sharon met the other man, freshly missing an arm and still getting used to talking with a voice box, she knew they were close in a way she couldn’t quite describe yet.
They purchased a cabin up at the base of the mountains, and Sharon would still visit at least twice a week, but Jimbo never came to the Kimble household as much anymore. The only way he could describe it in a way she understood was that he and Ned needed some space, but she couldn’t help feeling like the needed space was from her parents, whether it be because of the lingering tension from before his deployment or Ned’s presence, maybe both.
As Sharon grew, becoming a teenager, everything began to shift around her. Whispers that had once been traded by adults at the sight of her were now being passed around by her classmates, always quiet enough that she never knew their contents. Going to school in an age where teens liked to gossip with one another was quickly turning around on her, and it frustrated her to no end. Eventually, when she had finally had enough, the only people she really felt like she could turn to were Jimbo and Ned. Now that she was older and could correctly voice her concerns, maybe they could give her some answers?
Nothing could prepare her for what she was about to hear…
‘BBBBBBBBRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!!!!’
The timer.
Jumping from the shrill shriek that had suddenly pierced the silence, Sharon was shocked back into the present. Rising from her place on the floor, she quickly quieted the alarm, before glancing at the innocent little test. It was flipped upside down, she didn’t want to be tempted to look early, but now she was hesitant to pick it up at all. How could she, when she was so nervous? Should she wait for Randy to come home, like last time, or just take the plunge now?
Bravery was the last thing on her mind right now, but she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. There was no turning back now. Drawing in a huge breath, she gripped the little stick, and flipped it over…
…
… Two lines.
… Positive.
… ‘Oh my god…’
It was happening.
Sharon was pregnant again.
Before she could even begin to process this information, she heard the front door open with a click, followed by the sound of Shelley’s tiny little boots scampering through the house, surely tracking snow across the living room carpet. “Hey, Sharon!” Randy called, the sound of grocery bags being set on the kitchen counter underscoring his greeting.
She didn't move. No, she couldn’t . It was as if some sort of paralysis had set in, rendering her unable to even speak.
When he didn’t receive an answer, she heard footsteps traversing the first floor, stopping and going again as he looked. “Sharon?” Randy asked loudly, heading towards the downstairs bathroom door. There was nothing she could really do except stand there. Letting him come and find her frozen in shock, staring at the little message about her future as a mother of two.
Pushing the door open gently, Randy took in the sight before him, eyes fixating on the test in his wife’s hands. He looked just as stunned as she felt for a split second, before giving way to joy. “Oh… oh my god… Sharon, really?!”
Unsure of how to respond, Sharon nodded in a daze. “Yeah, like, two seconds ago…”
Laughing, Randy rushed fully into the room, latching his arms around Sharon’s back and lifting her off the ground. “Oh my god, YES! YES! Oh, thank you lord, thank you!” He shouted, spinning her around as carefully as he could in the tight space, but all Sharon could feel in the moment was a cold numbness. Something wasn’t right. She could feel it.
“I… I don’t know how to feel right now,” Sharon admitted when he set her back down. “It’s like something’s setting off alarm bells in my head and I can’t figure out what it is.”
“Hey, it’s okay honey! Listen, it’s probably some whacked-up hormone, nothing to worry about.” Randy reasoned in a reassuring tone. Truthfully, it did the trick, placating her to an extent. He had a good point, pregnancy hormones were wild, and she had heard of stranger things happening in regards to them than unexpected anxiety attacks.
It was better not to focus on panicking. That wouldn’t be good for the baby…
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
She couldn’t believe it. Another baby! Another bright little angel to love and care for would be nestled in her arms before she knew it. Shelley was going to be a big sister, something they had mutually wanted her to experience for some time now. All of the anxiety she was experiencing slowly began to melt away, as if she was becoming more aware of the tiny little person in her belly, lying in wait. It was almost as if they were sending her their first greeting, one that she welcomed with open arms.
Randy let out a sudden laugh as he carried Shelley in from the kitchen, as if realizing something funny. “Ya know, if you really think about it, we kinda have the Broflovski’s to thank for this baby, huh?”
Letting out her own snort of laughter at the joke, Sharon couldn’t help but agree. During her first conversation with the other woman, she couldn’t help but have a gut feeling that Sheila had been pregnant, when she had asked what motherhood was like. But the news hadn’t been confirmed until just after New Years, when Sheila had ever so subtly started to show. Congratulating the expecting couple, Sharon couldn’t help but want to be in the same position.
January had been busy for the Marsh’s, but their previous conversations about trying for a second kid had been shot back up to the forefront of their minds when they heard about Sheila and Gerald. Despite knowing things would only get busier, the reawakened desire had overtaken both her and Randy, and they decided to throw caution to the wind about two days after the Broflovski’s announcement.
How many weeks ago had that been? Six, seven?
“Oh, Randy,” Sharon said in realization as she tried to calculate how much time had passed. “Our baby is gonna be really close in age to the Broflovski’s. How many months apart would they be?”
“Five, I think?” Randy answered, racking his brain. “We’ll figure it out once we have a due date.”
Now with this new information, her imagination was kickstarted. She could almost see two little kids walking side by side to the bus stop, rushing up the stairs at each other’s houses to play after school, and tumbling around happily in the snow. Each new image made her heart want to burst with the sweetness of it all.
Gut feelings were a good thing to listen to, and the one Sharon was having now was loud and clear.
‘These kids are gonna be best friends growing up.’
So she decided to focus on this new, happy thought, pushing any fear that might have lingered to the back of her brain.
And along with it, the funny feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop…
‘God, I hope I’m not crushing Gerald’s hand!’
In all honesty, Sheila probably was, but her brain simply had no capacity to ponder it further as the next contraction wracked her body. Breathing deeply was only doing so much as they began to arrive faster and stay longer, so her husband’s hand might have been one of the most welcome objects in her vicinity. Hovering somewhere above her head, a midwife was counting down the seconds until the pain would subside, giving her a sense of what was going on outside of her and Gerald’s little bubble.
Finally, after months of endless preparation, congratulations and silent terror, the big day had arrived.
At long last, they were a short time away from meeting their little one.
Earlier, the previous day had gone by somewhat slowly. Two weeks ago, Sheila’s parents had flown in again and taken residence in the guest bedroom, while Miriam was always close by and on-call for the impending birth. The expecting parents had been up throughout the night, unable to sleep, and found humor in doing things they normally wouldn’t do at 2:00 am – laundry, making homemade tomato soup, adding last minute furnishings to the baby’s room – until Sheila’s water broke sometime around 9:00 am.
From there, things had progressed shockingly quickly in only two hours, and Sheila wondered (not for the first time) whether she had been hasty in her decision to have a home-birth. In the past, she had had a track record for hating any type of hospital setting, the atmosphere and general vibes sending her anxiety through the roof, and leaving her shaking with fright long after her visit would be over.
No matter the doubts she had now, there was no turning back now. Besides, there was something so special about having their baby be born inside the house. This was where he or she would grow up, make countless memories, and feel safe and warm even on the darkest winter nights. Just like their father… who was currently using his sleeve to scrub away huge beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead, Sheila noted with a hint of amusement.
“Okay, we’re not quite there yet, but close!” The midwife chirped enthusiastically, bustling over to the bathroom counter (where she had set up shop) to fetch another cup of ice chips. She had arrived swiftly, and had been nothing but supportive in the time that Sheila had been in labor, walking the pair through all of the necessary steps in order to deliver the baby safely. While the atmosphere in the room was still riddled with tenseness, she had them assured that they were in good hands.
Outside the door, faint snatches of conversation were audible, courtesy of the three soon-to-be grandparents. Holing up in the master bedroom, they had found solidarity in one another’s presence, praying and voicing their hopes for a safe delivery and recovery afterwards.
There was, of course, an overarching sadness that not every grandparent could be there to witness the arrival. Gerald’s father, Benjamin Melberg, had died over a decade ago while the former was still in high school, after struggling with poorly-treated Type 1 diabetes all his life that culminated in an early heart attack. Sheila had never met the man, but Sharon had described him as a cutthroat lawyer who towered over his opponents, and never lost a case.
But she had also described him as an even-tempered, and open-minded person, whose family was one of the few who had no judgement of her during her darkest hours. When he died, it was like a fissure had opened for the entire family, but Gerald most of all had been torn to pieces. Benjamin was his idol, the person he had looked to model himself off of the most. He was lost without his father’s guidance, and Sheila wished so badly that her father-in-law had lived to see what an amazing person his son had become.
A hiss tore from her throat as she sucked in a harsh breath, gripping the gleaming edges of the bathtub so hard that the blood fled from her clenched knuckles. The contractions had been hell since they began, but the further they dragged on, and the faster they came, the shorter her ability to deal with them became.
“You doing okay, honey?” Gerald inquired gently at the sight of her pain, craning his neck downwards to place a kiss on Sheila’s forehead.
“How does it look like I’m doing?!” She snapped, probably a bit nastier than she intended to. Behind him, she spotted the midwife hurrying over with the ice chips.
“Shhhh…” Gerald hushed, taking the ice from the midwife and handing it to Sheila. “It’s gonna be okay baby, just keep breathing. We’re gonna see them soon… and then everything will be okay.”
Brushing his thumb across her cheek, Sheila hadn’t even realized she was crying. The pounding pain that had spread through her torso like wildfire had somehow distracted her from the sobs racking her shoulders, the tears pouring down her face to settle on her neck and along her collarbone. The source of these tears, however, wasn’t the pain alone doing a number on her body…
… It was the flesh memory that came with it.
The memory of her first labor.
It looked entirely different from the one she was experiencing now, taking place in an actual delivery room, with a somber shadow cast over the occasion. There was still urgency, but none of the cheery excitement that came with delivering a baby. All around her, machines beeped and buzzed, keeping constant watch over her vitals during the process, but any sound in the room was drowned by the empty space where her daughter’s heartbeat should have been, healthy and strong.
Never in Sheila’s worst nightmares had she imagined leaving the hospital without their baby. No one knew what had happened. No one had answers for her or Gerald. They had made it over halfway to term, had done absolutely everything right, and yet… she was gone in an instant. There was nothing left to do but deliver her quietly, and give her a beautiful name, to at least prove she had been here. And Briella Broflovski proved to be as beautiful as the name she was given, even under the horrendous circumstances.
Life went on, either with or without the Broflovski’s, depending on the day. Hours were spent weeping, attempting and failing to choke down food, or lying awake in the dark for the entire family. Everything was so truly fucked up that no one even pretended they weren’t wracked with grief at first. Sure, they got better at masking it, but Sheila was so distraught that she seemed trapped in her own head, noticing little of what was going on around her, even in her interactions with Gerald.
Which is exactly what made everything so much worse when it happened again.
Every symptom went completely unnoticed this time. Her worsening mood, the slight sickness… nothing registered in her head about what it could mean for weeks until the pain arrived as she was walking down the stairs. Sharp, and sinister, and much too familiar. Dread overtook her entire being as she yelled for her father, sinking in further while they sped towards the hospital, and by the time Gerald arrived from work, it was already far too late for anything to be done. They tearfully named her Donna, and then left the next morning. Rinse and repeat.
There was a reason Sheila hated hospitals. She had experienced the lowest moments of her entire life in hospital rooms, weeping as if she could physically feel her heart breaking in two… She had frantically begged ultrasound technicians to find heartbeats or any signs of life twice before, only to break down when they discovered nothing…
Hospitals, and to an extent, Newark, had become harbingers of death to the bereaved parents.
So in a numb, almost blind daze, they agreed to move back to Gerald’s hometown. The decision was almost unanimous, even with Sheila’s parents, that the pain would become too much if they stayed. More than anything, she was just baffled by the whole thing. Why did this keep happening? What was wrong with her? No matter how hard she pondered on it, she couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but the prospect of moving away and getting a fresh start somewhere quieter and cleaner had at least given her hope.
Gerald never wanted to talk about it, which Sheila would have found worrying if she hadn’t shared the same sentiment. Much to her surprise, it was actually Cleo that she really opened up to about it, one night when Sam had come for a visit, concerned for her sister. All three women had holed up in the master bedroom, stayed up late enough that sleep weighed heavy on their eyes and shoulders like stones, wine glasses drooping over as they slipped evermore into sleep.
“Sometimes, that’s just how life goes,” Cleo said softly, both of her girls tucked under each arm as all three rubbed at their teary eyes, lost in a melancholy familiar to the Broflovski women. “Did I ever tell you two I was supposed to be a twin?”
Both shook their heads, albeit too drunk to be aware of the implications of such a statement, and Cleo pressed her nose into the top of Sheila’s hair, drinking in the presence of her oldest daughter gratefully.
“I didn’t think I did. I don’t know much; all I’ve ever known is that I made it, and he didn’t. It was just…one of those things that sort of…happens.”
“It shouldn’t happen, period.” Sam muttered solemnly.
“Bubbeleh, it’s not that simple,” Cleo told Sam gently. “Bad things are going to happen-”
Sam stifled a sob, shaking her head. “It’s not fair!… Everyone deserves a chance at life, Mama.”
It was easy for her to say, Sheila bitterly remarked within her mind, if the obvious lack of children in Sam’s life spoke for it. Yes, what she said was true, but it was just drivel, things that people told you to make you feel better when you’re going through a tragedy they wouldn’t understand. And when she did have children, they would certainly slide out of the ‘golden child’s’ womb with seldom issues, and more importantly, life .
Sheila, of course, was still having troubles, even with this beautiful, miracle child that seemed to have somehow made it to term healthy, according to the doctors. Getting the news of the baby’s existence right in the middle of final preparations for moving across several states didn’t do them any favors, least of all in regards to Sheila’s mental health. All through the pregnancy, she had received nothing but good news – that the baby was growing just fine despite being on the smaller side, that they were active and strong, that they looked picture perfect on every ultrasound screen – but a part of her was still certain that it was almost too good to be true.
Hope was something that still felt very far out of reach, even up to the moment the midwife informed her that it was time to deliver. Bogged down as she was with panic, Sheila knew exactly what she had to do. Muster up the strength and courage to go through with it, and maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. She had made it this far, after all, so what was to stop her now?
From there, the labor was just as rough as she remembered, but also surprisingly smooth. Under her palm, Gerald’s pulse raced in his wrist, and she counted the beats to stay focused through the crushing ache. He gingerly reached out to brush her long, scarlet tresses away from where they were plastered down her temples and neck, and immediately the room felt less cloying. Calm and collected, the midwife continued to count and give updates. Within minutes, her eyes lit up as she reported that she could now see the baby.
This was it. This was the moment everything changed. It was now or never.
Channeling her energy into the final stretch, Sheila squeezed her eyes shut, followed the midwife’s instructions, and was overtaken by the worst pain so far. But she knew what it meant. She had prepared for this moment for years, and was praying that her baby would not slip from her grasp again. Shaking, she held Gerald’s hand like it was a fragile string holding her to the earth, the prayers that began as murmurs turning into screams as their child finally entered the world — living or dead, she couldn’t say.
Until she heard them cry.
Quiet at first, the sound quickly picked up in volume, turning from soft to shrill in seconds. Sheila’s heart leapt in shock, having fully expected to hear nothing, and she began to wail just as loud as the infant, a sense of relief filling her whole being like she had never experienced before. As if on cue, an explosion of cheers and screams erupted from the now-grandparents in the room next door, who had most likely been waiting with bated breath for the same sound, but for now, she drowned out everything else.
After years of longing, the sound they had been deprived of the privilege to hear was finally ringing through the room, stronger and louder with each passing moment. It was more beautiful than any song she had ever heard. It signaled the beginning of her child’s life, and her new life with a baby. They were here. They were healthy.
And that was all that mattered.
Once the delivery was actually over, time seemed to slow down again, something the pair was grateful for. Any attempts that either Sheila or Gerald made to withhold their emotions went right out the window when they were finally able to meet their baby boy (a boy, a son!), pressed into Sheila’s arms by the midwife with a cheery congratulations. They laughed and cried all at once as they tried to calm him down, beyond excited to officially meet the new center of their universe.
Weighing in at five pounds, nine ounces, the little boy was definitely smaller than average, but otherwise healthy in every way. Hilariously, he already had a full head of ruby curls, and a light spattering of freckles across his tiny nose and cheeks, exactly like his mother. As a matter of fact, he seemed to have inherited most of her features, with only his scrunched eyes still a mystery. Gerald humorously called the baby her “little twin” when he got his first chance to hold his newborn son, who was shifting between settling in his father’s arms, and fussing in a way that mimicked a sputtering firecracker.
Soon, the new family entered the master bedroom to find three doting grandparents ready to meet the newest addition. Nathaniel had promptly burst into tears of joy when presented with his grandson, making an effort to control his shaky arms in order to hold him. Miriam immediately congratulated the two, taking an extra minute to hold her son tightly, whispering encouragement to quell his nerves. And Cleo spent what must have been hours cooing over the infant, absolutely besotted with the little redhead.
The rest of the day was relatively uneventful, and yet, even the smallest of things felt big to Sheila and Gerald. Their son’s eyes popped open very dramatically for the first time after what must have been a gigantic sneeze for him. Clover green irises looked up at them curiously, watching as Sheila fretted over the baby’s health, while Gerald reassured her it was perfectly normal for newborns to sneeze. Everything about his care was surprisingly easy, as he ate and slept without much issue, and never cried for long before his parents could soothe him, no matter how loudly. This latter detail was just as worrying for Sheila, until her mother reassured her he was simply happy to be there with them, instantly making her feel better.
Between all of these events, both parents were racking their brains for a name. Merely getting through pregnancy had consumed their minds for months, and properly choosing a name had been something they had put off in the struggle. The pages of countless books had been flipped, but nothing had stood out to Gerald or Sheila as fitting the baby that grew silently within her. Even now, with their little angel looking up at them in curious silence, none of the names that were thrown around felt right to her.
“I think you ought to go with a nice, classic, Hebrew name. Levi, or Aaron, something like that,” Nathaniel muttered over her shoulder as he placed another pillow behind his daughter’s back.
Miriam shook her head and chuckled, elbowing Gerald slightly. “No no, go with something more unique. If you’re gonna go Hebrew, go with something that hasn’t been used by our family, like Liron or Saar.”
Nathaniel scoffed and shuffled over to the couch at the back of the room. “At that point, may as well not go with a Hebrew name at all, for crying out loud.”
Quiet the whole time was Cleo, who smiled peacefully at the baby in Sheila’s arms with a look that could only be described as pure love and hope; the love and hope every mother feels for their child passed down to her own daughter. And for a moment, Sheila wished that Gerald had acknowledged their baby as Cleo’s twin, rather than her own — he was a spitting image of the photos Sheila had seen of her mother when she was young.
At the back of her mind, Sheila thought back to the conversation she and Sam had had with their mother, the night she told them about her brother. Cleo’s twin had been given a somewhat matching name to her own, chosen before their birth, and she had decided to tell her daughters what it was.
Sheila hadn’t thought about the name in quite some time, but the moment she remembered it, it felt more right than any of the others that had been suggested over the course of the night. Maybe it was time to bite the bullet and suggest it, with permission from her mother, of course.
“Ma? How would you feel if we named the baby Kyle?”
Cleo’s entire demeanor changed as she pondered the question; it didn’t seem to be one that she expected to be asked at all. But after a few seconds, she smiled softly from her seat across the room and gave Sheila a single nod.
“I think that that’s a wonderful name for this little boy, Sheila. Kyle Broflovski sounds marvelous.”
And just like that, the life of little Kyle began. While nothing monumental had happened as of yet, Sheila was certain that big things were down the line, as every parent would expect for their children.
First and foremost, however, was the main reason he would be growing up in South Park in the first place. This wasn’t just the place that his father called home before him, or chosen just for its clean air and tranquil quiet.
No, this was where Sheila intended to keep Kyle safe.
At any and all costs.
‘It’s funny… after all this time, I wasn’t expecting him to have my eyes…’
And yet, even as the thought traversed Sharon’s brain, two tiny, crystalline blue eyes peered up from the nest of blankets they were nestled between. Above them, a tuft of silky black hair similar to the consistency of baby bird feathers poked from the warm folds of fabric, already unkempt and tousled only a few hours out of the womb. Were he an older child, Sharon would have thought that he had been outside playing, riding his bike, going on adventures — but instead, he was tucked away in a pale blue blanket, safe and snug within her grasp.
What a beautiful little boy she had found herself with. Right from the beginning of the pregnancy, the Marshes had intended to find out the gender as soon as possible — Randy was rather inpatient when it came to that kind of thing — and she was pleasantly surprised to discover she was expecting a son. Randy had let out such a loud victory yell that several people in the hallway peered into their room to see what had transpired, prompting Sharon to cover her face in amused embarrassment.
A son was something she had always joked about with Randy: a little guy named Randy Jr., someone to get up to mischief with, someone to watch at baseball games. An All-American little family dream.
But now, with an actual baby boy in her arms, Sharon felt that it was more than that. The son she had talked about with Randy was an ideal, but the baby in front of her was an epiphany, a real, living thing in her arms that would laugh and cry and love. Sharon Marsh had brought another human into the world, and she loved him dearly.
“You did so good, baby,” she promised into the top of his head, fuzzy black hair brushing against her lips. He fussed ever so gently, squawking and shifting a bit.
“Shhh… it’s okay, honey,” she giggled, reassuring him with a light whisper. “This must be so confusing… trust me, I know the feeling. But I’m so happy you’re here with me… I hope you’ll be happy too.”
Eyes crinkling as she faced the baby with a tired smile, Sharon rested her nose against his, watching as his ice blue eyes fluttered open once more. “Your name is Stanley, by the way. Your father, — you’ll meet him soon — he and I chose it before we met you. I think it’s a beautiful name, a strong one. This world is scary, but I’m gonna be here for you …Stan. For you and Shelley both.”
At least, that’s what she hoped. Tried as she might, the planned C-Section that brought Stanley into the world had somehow turned even more chaotic than Shelley’s had. This time, Randy had decided to pre-pack the car, called several times a day to ensure that they had the right date for the procedure (to the point where the hospital told him to stop), and stayed awake for days on end in order to prepare — only to forget to fill up the gas tank.
Sharon thanked her lucky stars that the car had sputtered to a stop somewhat near Jimbo and Ned’s cabin, and the pair came to their rescue as soon as they got the call that they were stuck. Unfortunately, Randy’s tomfoolery was far from over, dropping the baby powder in the backseat of Jimbo’s car and enveloping the entire interior in a sweet-smelling cloud. Shelley loved the sudden dusting, happily flinging baby power in the air and shaking it from her ponytail. But the intense smell began to mess with Sharon’s stomach after only a few minutes, and when they arrived at Hell’s Pass, she began violently retching in the parking lot, possibly losing everything she had eaten in the last twenty-four hours.
Jimbo and Ned took Shelley to the waiting room, leaving Sharon and Randy to prepare for the delivery. Now that they were there , all of Sharon’s nerves seemed to barrel back into her consciousness, and she found herself shaking intensely as she put on her gown and cap. The last time had been so harrowing, and already the day had seen one disaster after another… what if it only got worse from there?
Funnily enough, she couldn’t help but wonder whether her baby shared the same sentiments about what was to come.
Stan had been active all day, from the moment Sharon had awoken at four a.m. Both had seemingly been unable to sleep any longer, and she had laid alone in bed, listening as Randy took another of his countless showers, and feeling Stan fidget in her belly. He would move left, then right, give a few kicks, then get comfortable for a few minutes, before repeating. It was an adorable little routine, one that he had performed several times before, and one he would display again several times over the course of the day, but that never lessened Sharon’s joy at feeling it again.
She would savor each little movement until Stanley joined them in the world.
Over the course of the year, she noticed a lot of other expecting moms, and would become excited each time she heard someone had given birth to a baby boy, knowing she would be joining them soon. Hell, nearly all of the surrounding houses suddenly had boys born into them, it seemed. It gave the expecting parents hope that their son would find friends waiting not too far away from his own home.
The McCormicks down the road had had their second son, a small blonde boy named Kenny, who Randy spotted being pushed by his mother in a stroller down the sidewalk and commented that his eyes looked far too large to fit on his face. And next door to the right, a young woman who had moved in recently had given birth to a boy too, one who was particularly grumpy and loud. The woman’s name was Lianne, if Sharon remembered correctly, but she couldn’t quite place her son’s name. What was it again… Derek?
But out of all of these new arrivals, one stood out. Five months ago in May, Sheila and Gerald Broflovski welcomed their own baby, a lovely little boy named Kyle. Randy and Sharon had met him soon after birth, and in the latter’s opinion, he was just as sweet as could be. He wasn’t shy around strangers, warming up to the neighbors in minutes, and just seemed to be a happy baby all around. As a matter of fact, the fiery red hair he shared with his mother gave the impression that he was a literal ball of sunshine, and he endeared himself to Sharon almost instantly.
This was around the time they had discovered Stanley was a boy, and the two mothers promised they would have their sons visit one another as often as possible, excited about the prospect of their respective babies having a playmate. Now that the moment was closing in, Sharon felt so inexplicably scared, like she couldn’t breathe. The strange anxiety attack that she had the moment she found out she was pregnant had lingered in the back of her head time and time again, and she felt like she was edging close again.
Alas, there was no time to panic. Her son was on his way, and enough had been messed up already. She would go into this with a strong resolve, and come out a mother of two.
Yet… the delivery itself was what made her wonder if she was somehow a mother of three sometimes, with the shit Randy pulled. He had literally seen this before, watched Shelley be pulled from her body after it was opened with a knife, all of the insides splayed for him to see, so why did he choose this moment to pass out?! God, she couldn’t help but roll her eyes when he went down, beyond pissed at his behavior. Without hesitation, she told the doctors to remove him — Stan had been out for two minutes by that point, he wasn’t missing anything.
Now, here she was. She had remained alone while a crying Stan had been cleaned and handed to her, and she quickly set about comforting him. Her hushed whispers and songs did the trick, lulling him into a sense of safety, secure in her embrace. Eventually, although she logically knew there were nurses hovering nearby to monitor her and the baby, she was given privacy to really bond with him and get to know him, and she couldn’t have been more grateful.
Catching the sound of the door creaking open, Sharon groggily glanced up to see Randy’s ashen face. She had half the mind to be annoyed, and even entertained the idea of telling him to come back later… but something about his expression stopped her. One look at his face was all it took to see the blatant guilt woven across his features, like he knew he had fucked up big time.
When she said nothing, and simply stared expectantly, he cleared his throat, anxiously shuffling from one foot to the other, unwilling to step through the doorway without her permission. “I’m… I’m sorry, Sharon. I really don’t know what came over me… I was just so excited to be a dad again, I just— I lost control of myself. You don’t have to forgive me, I wouldn’t either—”
“Randy,” Sharon said softly, cutting him off. Pulling herself up slightly, so her face was angled more towards his, she held up the bundle ever so slightly so he could see. “Do you want to meet Stanley?”
People around town could say what they wanted about Sharon Marsh, but one fact was known to them all; she was incredibly forgiving. She herself strived to be, even when she didn’t want to. And yes, there were people she would never forgive. That was why she cut her parents out of her life. Everyone she talked about it with told her she did the right thing, but even after everything that went down between them, she couldn’t help but harbour regret for the loss of their relationship. She just didn’t want to lose anyone else, least of all, her own husband.
Dragged out of his guilt with the question, Randy’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Wait, you— you mean it?!”
“Yes, Randy, why wouldn’t I mean it?” Sharon laughed quietly, to ensure their baby wouldn’t be startled. “Just try to stay quiet, he’s very relaxed right now.”
“Of course, I got it!” Randy whispered, miming zipping his lips as he crossed the threshold into the room. Gently, Sharon handed Stan over to his father, who was instantly choked up upon peering down at the little face. Disturbed by the movement, Stan began to whimper, and Randy wasted no time in beginning to rock him slightly.
“Hey, no no no, it’s okay! It’s just Daddy, it’s okay buddy… hi. I’m your Daddy…I’m so happy to meet you, little guy.” He said, watching intently as Stan’s little eyes narrowed, focusing and unfocusing, as if he didn’t quite know what to make of Randy. The moment was precious, and Sharon was glad to bear witness to it.
Soon, they would introduce Stan to Shelley, then Jimbo and Ned, then his grandfather, then so many more people afterwards, once he was ready to meet them. Having already mothered a little girl, having a boy was an exciting unknown, one that Sharon was ready to embrace.
Mark her words, the world had to look out for when Stanley Marsh was ready to conquer it.
DPSD A/N:
Hey fun fact if you leave notes on the first chapter it stays, but like, forever. So we’re avoiding that yippee! I haven’t uploaded anything in a hot minute, but I’ve been a super busy irl, and I’m really happy to return to the screen in this fic co-written by my sister and I! She wrote most of this first chapter, and she is an absolute fucking icon.
I love Style, I love it a lot. They’re my little shaylas and they deserve the world. 🩵🧡💚❤️💙 I can’t wait for you guys to see what the next few chapters of this story have in store! Until then, stay safe; I’m sending you my love and luck for the coming days ✨
SOPC A/N:
Hi yall! This was a concept thought up a few months ago, and I’ve just been in LOVE with the idea! I love Style, and my two favorite SP parents are Sharon and Sheila, so the idea of the story of Style through their eyes was too precious to pass up. This is gonna cover everything starting from birth, and ending in adulthood, so there’s definitely more to come (and even when it’s over, more Style after that)!
So just as a quick fun fact, this is gonna overlap and interweave with our last Style story, ‘And We Run’, which we will link up with this one in our brand new Style Collection. They can be read separately, but if you want some extra context, feel free to hop on over to that story and give it a read! 😁
Anyway, that’s it for now! I’m so excited to finally publish the first chapter of this story (on my birthday nonetheless! 🎉), and I’ll see you guys in the next installment!