Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 136

Chapter 136– A Little Love, A Lot of Chaos
Miexha's POV

Dinner at the Dom Mansion always felt like something out of a historical drama: long mahogany table, golden plates, a chandelier that sparkled like a royal crown, and enough etiquette to choke a queen.

But tonight?
Oh, tonight had a different flavor.

Because Jayson had an announcement.

I tried to sink into my chair, mentally whispering: If I don’t move, they won’t see me.
Meanwhile, my dear husband sat beside me glowing like the proudest idiot alive.
His hand rested on my belly like he was guarding a national treasure. His smug grin screamed: I did this. I made this. Bow down, world.

Jamie clapped excitedly.
“I’m gonna be a big sister!”

Asha spun her in her lap.
“And you’ll be the fiercest, sassiest, most dazzling big sister ever! Auntie will train you myself.”

I deadpanned. “God help us all.”

Asha winked. “Oh, He’s busy. You’re stuck with me.”

Then—of course—Jayson’s mom dabbed at her eyes like she was acting in a telenovela.
“My sweet baby boy… giving me more grandbabies… I knew you weren’t a lost cause!”

Jayson’s dad, clearly amused, raised his glass.
“I told you, son. Just needed the right… entry point.”

I choked. I want to die.

Meanwhile, Jamie and Asha had already made up a “Big Sister” dance number in the corner.

Then my older brother, Diaspro—the Wall of Judgment—cleared his throat.

“You better take this seriously, Jayson.” He gave him that look, the one that probably scared bullies off since grade school.

Jayson sat up straighter than a soldier. “I will, Kuya. I swear.”

My mom gave me a soft smile. “Now that your family’s growing, it’s time you two moved into your own home.”

Finally! Freedom! My soul practically cheered—

But then—
SLAM!

Jayson’s mom slapped the table like a judge declaring war.

“My grandbabies will not be living anywhere outside this mansion. They belong here, with us!” she sniffed, clinging dramatically onto Jamie like a villainous rich mother-in-law from a drama.

“I mean—” she gestured around the grand dining hall.
“Do you really expect me to wait and hope for Asha to give me more grandkids? She won’t even look at men.”

Asha, still swaying Jamie, just shrugged, completely unbothered.
“Men are tiring. I’ll just babysit my niece and nephew. I get all the fun, none of the drama, and zero pregnancy stretch marks.”

The room burst into laughter—except me. Because I just realized I was probably trapped in this overdecorated mansion until further notice.

Jayson leaned in, his fingers tightening around mine.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered with that dumb grin I loved,

“This baby’s going to grow up surrounded by love. From the moment they exist, they’re wanted.”

I sighed, pretending to glare.
“You already filled me enough, thank you.”

He turned beet red and nearly spilled his wine.

God, I loved messing with him.

---

Pregnancy, they say, is beautiful.
They didn’t say it would also be my favorite new comedy series.

Well — at least for me.

For Jayson?
Not so much.

Because after six years of being an absentee first-time dad with Jamie, he was now experiencing the full course of pregnancy trauma with me. And oh, I was making sure he’d never forget it.

It started with my cravings.

"Jayson," I whispered dramatically at midnight, shaking him awake like I was some princess in distress.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, half-asleep.

“I need… ice cream. With bagoong. And pickled mangoes. And maybe chicharon. I haven’t decided yet.”

His eyes shot open instantly, fully awake in 0.2 seconds like a soldier on high alert.
“W-What? Where am I supposed to find that at midnight?”

I pouted, my voice trembling for maximum effect.
"The baby wants it."

Jayson shot out of bed so fast I swear he left a trail of smoke. “O-Okay! I’ll find something! Don’t cry—please don’t cry!”

Of course, I wasn't really crying. I was just having fun watching him scramble like an obedient butler, calling every 24-hour grocery in the capital while still in his pajamas.

Men are so easy.

And then came my melodramatic hormones phase.

I would randomly burst into tears while eating lunch.

“Dear! What’s wrong?!” Jayson would panic, rushing to my side.

I sobbed dramatically, holding my belly. “I feel... like a giant whale.”

“B-But you’re still small and cute love! You’re glowing—like... like the most radiant sun!”

I sniffled, nodding like a noble queen. “Do you really think so?”

“Of course!”

Gotcha.
I smiled sweetly as he wiped my fake tears. Another successful operation.

But nothing, nothing, beats my 3 a.m. masterpiece.

I shook him awake.
“H-Huh? What now? You’re hungry again?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“The baby wants to see you dance.”

“…Dance?”

“Butt naked,” I added sweetly. “For the baby.”

Jayson’s eyes widened like saucers. “W-What?!”

I pouted, touching my belly.
“The baby wants it. You won’t say no to our baby, right?”

I could see his soul leaving his body, but like a loyal soldier, he stood up, stripped off his clothes with a red face, and started doing the most awkward wiggle I’ve ever seen in my life.

Poor man. He really has no idea I’m just playing him.

But beneath all the teasing, all the hormones and midnight pranks, I saw it.

How Jayson held my hand tighter. How he whispered to my belly like the baby could hear him.
How he stayed up to research prenatal care, and carried my vitamins like ancient relics.
How he rearranged his campaign schedule just to sit beside me during checkups.

He was trying.
Really trying.
Making up for what he missed.
Becoming a real dad.

Every campaign rally he attended as a candidate for Capital City’s 4th District Congressman — with his father’s full support — he would proudly parade me and Jamie like the perfect family portrait.
“Look! I’m a responsible husband and father! Vote for me!”

The media loved it.
“Future president material,” they said. “Just like his father.”

And as my stomach grew, so did Jayson’s anxiety.

He became even more cautious, carrying every bottle of vitamins like it was made of glass, personally measuring the temperature of my bath water, and flinching every time I stood up from the couch like I was about to give birth right there.

“Are you okay? Need anything? A chair? A nap? An entire hospital?”

I swear, if I told him the baby wanted a pet elephant, he’d call the zoo before I could blink.

And that’s how my daily entertainment went — watching my husband survive his first real pregnancy experience while still trying to act like the perfect, composed congressman in front of the whole nation.

It’s fun being evil sometimes.