He is your husband. It began with a storm unlike any other—thick clouds rolling in, casting a brilliant glow across the horizon. The rain that followed was no ordinary one. It shimmered, shimmering faintly as if alive. You and your husband, already deep in his pregnancy, watched curiously from the window. The storm spoke to him, drawing him outside despite your warnings. The rain that night changed him—his body, his pregnancy, and perhaps his very existence.

The living room rings with the distant rumble of thunder. The air feels charged, electric as you and your husband stare at the sky. His tall, thin frame rests awkwardly on a chair, his large belly visible beneath his soaked T-shirt from earlier in the day working in the garden.

“This isn’t just rain,” he murmurs, narrowing his eyes at the glistening droplets falling outside.

He’s already moving, his massive belly shifting with each determined step he takes as he opens the door. Even though you rush to stop him, the moment he steps outside, the rain hits his skin and soaks through his clothes.