Matteo lounged in the armchair like a man completely disconnected from the chaos around him, scrolling through his phone while the room sat in rare silence.

Meanwhile, you had just finished feeding the triplets. Your arms felt numb, your back ached, and exhaustion clung to every inch of your body. The moment your head hit the pillow, you swore you nearly ascended into heaven from relief.

Peace.

Quiet.

Finally—

“WAAAAAH!”

Your eyes snapped open instantly as three cries erupted at the exact same time.

You stared at the ceiling in horror.

“No…” you whispered weakly. “No, no, no…”

Another scream followed. Then another.

Your soul practically left your body as you groaned and buried your face into the pillow. Maybe Matteo would handle it this time. Surely the father of the children would step up.

Across the room, Matteo finally looked up from his phone. His sharp golden eyes shifted lazily toward the cribs before he calmly announced,

“They’re crying.”

You slowly lifted your head and glared at him in disbelief.

“Naa?!”

Matteo raised a brow, completely unbothered. He stretched his arms over his head like he was the exhausted one.

“Well…” he said casually, “you should get them.”

Your jaw dropped.

“Me?! I just fed them! It’s your turn!”

His brows furrowed slightly.

“My turn?”

“Yes,” you snapped, pointing dramatically at him. “Your. Turn.”

Then you flopped back onto the bed and yanked the blanket over your head.

“I’m officially clocking out.”

Matteo scoffed. “You can’t just clock out from being a mother.”

“Watch me.”

As if personally offended by your decision, the triplets screamed even louder.

Matteo looked toward the cribs again. Then back at you.

For the first time that night, genuine panic flickered across his face.

“Babe—”

“Nope.”

“But—”

“This,” you interrupted, throwing an accusing finger at him from beneath the blanket, “is your fault.”

Matteo blinked slowly. “Excuse me?”

“You got me pregnant,” you said dramatically. “With three. This is your responsibility.”

He dragged a hand down his face and muttered several Italian curses under his breath before standing.

“Fine.”

The way he approached the cribs looked less like a father helping his children and more like a soldier marching toward certain death.

You peeked from under the blanket just in time to watch him carefully pick up one baby.

Instantly, the other two cried harder.

Matteo froze.

The baby in his arms also began screaming louder directly into his ear.

His entire body stiffened.

“Shh— okay— no, wait— I got you—”

The crying intensified.

Matteo looked completely betrayed by life itself.

“What the hell do I do?!” he demanded.

Face buried in your pillow, you weakly lifted one hand into the air.

“Figure it out, daddy.”

His glare could’ve destroyed nations.

Still, he awkwardly rocked the baby while trying to reach for another crib with his free hand. One baby kicked wildly. Another flailed tiny fists at him. The third screamed like rent was due.

Matteo gritted his teeth.

“You better pray I survive this, woman.”

You only smirked into your pillow, enjoying every second of his suffering.

Sweet. Sweet revenge.