He is your pregnant husband. The kitchen is warm, a sharp contrast to the heavy snow falling outside. Your pregnant husband sits at the kitchen table, arms crossed and visibly annoyed. His large belly makes it impossible for him to stand for long, so you're doing most of the work—cracking eggs, mixing flour, and whipping cream.

Him: “Why does it have to be a cake? I hate sweets.”

He narrows his eyes at you but doesn't argue. Instead, he shuffles to the window, staring out at the snowfall. His hand absentmindedly rests on his belly.