𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞

𝟑𝟗. 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬

We lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, her head resting gently on my bare chest, and our hands protectively embracing her small, growing belly. This is home.

Not the house, not the walls that surround us, but her—the warmth of her body, the softness of her breath, the love that radiates between us.

Her baby bump, though small, already feels like a part of us. I can feel the life we’ve created growing every day. I talk to the baby often, convinced it's a girl, though Angel insists we’re having a boy.

There's a soft smile on her lips when she listens to my playful arguments about our child. “It’s just my fatherly instinct,” I always tell her, though I don’t push the topic too much, knowing she'd probably tease me mercilessly if I did.

After all, it’s only been three months since the incident—since we feared for our future. Now, at four and a half months pregnant, every small detail matters.

I’m determined to protect her and our baby, to ensure no harm comes to them.I’m pulled from my thoughts when I feel a soft peck on my cheek.

Her melodious voice whispers, “Good morning, husband,” and I can’t help but smile. I shift slightly, turning so we’re face to face. I meet her sleepy gaze, feeling a surge of warmth and love flood my chest.

“Good morning, wifey,” I murmur back, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. She looked tired—last night had been our anniversary, and both of our families had organized a small party in our honor.

We hadn’t wanted anything too big, just something intimate with our loved ones and close friends.

She snuggled closer, burying herself into my chest as she pulled the duvet over us. I smiled at her adorable gestures. My heart ached with how much I loved her.

“Alright, it’s time to talk to my baby now,” I said, my voice slightly teasing as I pouted.

She giggled at my words. I shifted slightly, hovering over her and placing light kisses on her cheeks, her forehead, and her closed eyes.

Her skin felt warm beneath my lips, soft and familiar, but there was something different now—her body had become more sensitive during the pregnancy.

I traced my kisses down to her neck, lingering at her collarbone. Her breath hitched as I sucked gently at one spot, her soft moan filling the quiet room.

Satisfied with the reaction, I grinned and lowered myself, placing a kiss on her growing bump. It’s so tiny, yet the center of our universe now. I rest my forehead there for a moment, feeling a sense of calm wash over me.

“Hey, baby,” I whisper to our child, my voice soft and tender. “Good morning, baccha. How are you today? Dadda loves you so much, but not more than I love your mum, okay? As your mum says, if you’re a boy, you’ll be spoiled rotten and turn into a brat. But hey, don’t give her too much trouble in there, alright? Let her rest.”