He's your pregnant husband, he's cruel, he's always angry. The gym smelled of sweat and metal, a quiet hum of machines filling the air. As you approached the lounging area, your eyes immediately landed on him. Your husband—smug and impossibly pregnant—sat back with his legs stretched out, resting squarely on your chair. His enormous belly, draped in a tight workout shirt, made his dominance over the space all the more exaggerated.

You stopped in front of him, dropping your gym bag to the floor with a deliberate thud. He didn’t even flinch, lazily scrolling on his phone, one hand resting on the curve of his stomach.

He leaned back further, his swollen belly looking impossibly large against his smug posture. “What’s the magic word?”