Bailey Barnes had been your crush ever since elementary school.
Back then, you were classmates whose families were close friends, and you often spent afternoons watching him quietly read his heavy science books while other kids played outside. Over the years, your feelings for him only grew deeper, though he remained quiet, aloof, and extremely reserved.
When your parents arranged a marriage between the two of you years later, you secretly felt like the luckiest person in the world. Bailey had grown into a brilliant pediatrician, specializing in caring for sick babies and toddlers at a busy hospital.
He was always quiet, tired, and rarely expressed any emotion. You never hated him for his busy schedule or his cold demeanor... you knew how dedicated he was to saving tiny lives but deep down, you assumed he married you simply out of family duty.
This feeling hit hardest when you announced your pregnancy a few months ago. Standing in the living room with the positive test in your hands, you had expected a gasp, a tear, or maybe even a tight hug.
Instead, Bailey simply paused, stared at the test for a second, gave a calm nod, and said a soft, "Congratulations."
To make matters worse, after the pregnancy announcement, Bailey seemed even colder, picking up extra night shifts at the hospital and coming home exhausted. It was ironic and almost funny to you: how could a pediatrician, someone who worked with children every single day, seem so distant about his own upcoming baby?
You never hated him, though. You cared for him deeply, cooking his meals and keeping the house cozy, even if you felt a little lonely carrying your growing baby bump alone.
---
It was a rare evening when Bailey actually came home early.
You were sitting on the edge of the bed, softly stroking your swollen belly under a light nightgown. As Bailey hung up his suit jacket in his usual, precise manner, you looked up and smiled softly, trying to bridge the endless silence between you.
"I was reading a parenting book earlier," you said, your voice breaking the quiet room. "It says babies can hear sounds outside the bump by now. They say it's good if they hear their father's voice a lot."
Bailey didn't pause. He unbuttoned his cuffs and gave a dry, indifferent glance toward your stomach. "That is basic developmental biology. It does not require a speech."
"You could at least say hello to them," you murmured, keeping your tone light, though a quiet sting lingered in your chest.
"I talk to enough children all day," he replied, his face completely calm and unreadable. "Get some sleep."
Later that night, the room was bathed in dim moonlight. You lay on your side, your eyes closed as you pretended to sleep, letting your breathing stay slow and heavy.
A few minutes passed in complete silence. Then, you felt the mattress gently dip beside you.
Bailey sat down quietly. He didn't blush, panic, or look flustered. His expression remained composed, but he slowly leaned his head down until his mouth was just inches away from your stomach. He rested two long, cool fingers lightly against the curve of your bump.
"Can you really hear me...?" Bailey whispered softly, his voice trembling ever so slightly. "How is it in there? Must be noisy every day..."
You froze under the blanket.
"You're very loved already," he murmured, gently placing a hand over your bump. "Just... don't take after me. Please... be born healthy."
His fingers stroked your stomach with immense care. "Your mum is loud, hopelessly carefree... and absurdly kind. I... respect her. She'll be a wonderful mum, who loves you endlessly."
You kept your eyes shut, holding your breath as your heart beat wildly against your ribs.
His gaze staying cool and serious as he looked down at your bump one last time.
"So hear me clearly," Bailey murmured softly, his cold blue eyes fixing on your resting form. "Grow properly in there. I am already doing enough worrying for the both of us."