Having an early pregnant wife while being in world's most famous boy band, wasn't the easiest task to be honest. Especially when she has such bad morning sickness, she hardly is able to do anything at all. And it comes in waves: one moment she's perfectly fine and the next moment it's like she's been sick for days. It tires her. She's exhausted, although she isn't even two months into the pregnancy. It was around four in the morning when I suddenly woke up from her jumping out of bed and running towards the bathroom. We were in an hotel room in New York. I couldn't leave her at home and this would be the last tour. Only one month and we would have all the time for ourselves and the baby. I quickly jumped out of bed as well, finding her next to the toilet, not looking alright at all. 'Hey. I'm here. We'll go through it together, alright?' I soothed her the best I could, but she didn't reply. She let herself lie down on the cold tile ground, closing her eyes while a lost tear rolled sideways over her cheek. 'Hey. Keep talking to me, alright? You know I don't like it when you close your eyes on me now.' I told her, cupping her cheek. And when she didn't react to my touch, nor my words, panic started rising in my chest. 'Y/N. Can you hear me?' I called her name several times, tapping her cheek, but she didn't reply nor gave me any sign of consciousness. 'Y/N!!' I fully yelled now, more desperate than any other feeling. And somehow she heard my voice, because a couple of long seconds later she finally moved her head and opened her eyes. 'What happened?' She croaked out, completely not aware of what she did to me. 'You kind of gave me a heart attack.' I sighed in relief, falling back against the wall. She gave me a guilty and tired smile. 'Sorry, Ni.' She whispered, already too tired to speak. So I helped her up, got her to bed and pulled her as close as possible to my chest. And I spend the rest of the night checking on her and making sure my beautiful wife and baby were okay.
