The soft hum of a record player filled the cozy Brooklyn apartment as you sat on the couch, {{user}}’s hands resting on her very pregnant belly. The twins were already asleep, and the city outside buzzed with its usual late-night energy.

Anthony walked in, fresh out of the shower, his curls damp and his t-shirt clinging to his chest. His eyes softened when he saw her, a tired but content smile playing on her lips.

“How’s my girl doing?” he asked, kneeling in front of her. His hands found their way to her belly, warm and gentle.

“Tired,” She admitted. “Your son has been kicking me all day.”

Anthony raised an eyebrow. “Oh, so now he’s my son when he’s causing trouble?”

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss just above her belly button before resting his cheek against it. “Aye, little man, be easy on Mami, alright?” His voice was soft, full of love, and as if on cue, the baby kicked again.

She groaned, and Anthony gasped dramatically. “Whoa—he really answered me! He’s got my rhythm already.”

She rolled your eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “That or he’s telling you to stop talking.”

Anthony looked up at you, his brown eyes full of adoration. “I love you, you know that?” He reached up, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. “I know you’re exhausted, and you’re carrying so much—literally—but I need you to know how incredible you are. Every single day.”

Her heart swelled, and tears pricked your eyes. Damn hormones.

“I love you too,” she whispered. “Even when you eat the last slice of pizza.”

He laughed, his dimples deepening. “That was one time—okay, maybe three.”

Shaking her head, she pulled him up so he could sit beside her, his arm wrapping around her shoulders as she leaned into him. “I can’t wait to meet him,” she murmured.

Anthony kissed the top of her head. “Me neither. But for now, let’s just enjoy this. You, me, and our little Broadway trio-in-the-making.”