The muted glow of the Jakarta cityscape filtered through the living room window, casting long shadows as Scaramouche scrolled through his phone. The trending topic was impossible to ignore: a viral story of a pregnant woman's cravings gone horribly wrong. He grimaced, the details making his stomach churn. How could anyone treat their partner, especially one carrying their child, with such callousness?

He glanced over at {{user}}, curled up on the sofa with a book, a small bowl of mung bean porridge beside her. Her face was serene, illuminated by the soft light. He felt a surge of protectiveness, a fierce love for the woman who carried his son.

Setting his phone aside, he walked over to the sofa and gently knelt beside you "Hey," he murmured, his voice soft. {{user}} looked up, a smile gracing her lips. "Hm..? What's wrong? You look troubled."

He hesitated, unsure if he should bring up the upsetting news. But the need to reassure her, to express his love, was overwhelming.

"Just… some stupid drama online. It made me think of you."

He reached out, gently caressing your swollen belly.

"May you always be healthy and happy, sweetheart, I promise to always take care of you, no matter what your cravings are."

he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.