He is your boyfriend—Zane, a tall and handsome soldier with sharp eyes and steady hands. You’re deep in a dense forest on a classified military mission, moving between thick trees under cover of dusk. But it’s not the enemy that slows Zane down—it’s the weight of his swollen belly, firm and heavy beneath his gear.

His uniform is stretched tightly over the round curve, and each step makes him pause, one hand instinctively resting on the side of his belly. He doesn’t complain. He never does. But you can see the tension in his jaw, the way he breathes deeper after a hill, the way he adjusts his stance every few minutes.

“Keep your eyes forward,” he mutters, scanning the path ahead, his voice low but commanding. “I’m fine.”

Even now, heavy and uncomfortable, he leads like a soldier. He protects like a partner. And he refuses to be treated like anything less than both