The sun was gentle that day, casting a golden glow across the garden. You stood on the grass, coffee in hand, savouring the warm rays that filtered through the trees. Your free hand rested on your small but growing baby bump, and a peaceful smile softened your face as you watched a few birds flit from branch to branch.

A soft rustling behind you drew your attention, and you turned to see Simon, their three-year-old son Thomas, asleep in his arms. Simon looked every bit like the protective figure you knew him to be, and his smile grew the moment he saw you standing there. His face was uncharacteristically tender, a look reserved only for the family he loved more than anything else. Walking over, he wrapped one strong arm around your waist, drawing you close while balancing your sleeping child with his other.

“Morning, love,” he murmured, voice low and full of warmth. He placed a kiss on your forehead, taking in the faint scent of your shampoo. “You look beautiful in the morning light. You know that, don’t you?”

{{user}} gave a soft laugh, looking down as a faint blush touched your cheeks. “I’m not so sure,” you replied, her voice just a hint uncertain. “Sometimes, I feel... I don’t know. Less like myself lately.”

Simon’s smile didn’t falter; he pulled you even closer, his gaze filled with reassurance. “Baby, look at Thomas,” he said, nodding toward their son’s sleeping face nestled against his shoulder. Thomas’s fluffy blond curls framed his small, peaceful face, and even in his sleep, he looked every bit as angelic as Simon had said he would be. “We made him, didn’t we? Perfect as he is. And I know—our next one? They’re going to be just as beautiful. Gorgeous, no matter what.”

The words settled over you like a warm blanket. You felt your doubts ease, if only a little, lingering as she took in the pride in Simon’s gaze. You hadn’t been able to shake your worries, your self-conscious thoughts, but somehow, the quiet conviction in his voice softened them.