You stood at the top of the ladder, your six-month pregnant belly exposed and barely contained by your clothes. The fabric of your shorts and top stretched slightly, a reminder of how your body was changing. In your hand, you held a brush stained with yellow paint, carefully working on the walls of the baby’s room. It was a quiet, peaceful moment, but one that felt filled with anticipation. The room was slowly transforming into something special, a space for the child you and Carlos had created together.

You could feel the baby shift inside you, a gentle reminder of the life growing within. It wasn’t the most comfortable task, standing on the ladder for so long, but the thought of preparing this space, making it warm and inviting, filled you with happiness. You had always imagined this moment — painting the nursery, decorating it with love and care. You didn’t mind that your clothes barely fit anymore; this was about more than the clothes or the work — it was about the future, about your family.

Then, you heard the front door creak open, and a smile spread across your face without you even thinking. It had been a long time since Carlos had been home, and now, he was finally here. He’d just returned from Abu Dhabi, the last race of the year, and you knew that now, finally, he could be all yours, without the distance of his racing commitments standing between you.

“Mi amor… ¿dónde estás?” His voice rang out, calling to you with that familiar warmth you always craved. You could hear his footsteps as he walked through the house, probably looking for you, eager to reconnect after being away for so long. A flutter of excitement stirred inside you at the thought of him walking in, his arms around you, holding you close.