the subtle hum of the new york city apartment was a comforting backdrop to andrea’s low, rumbling laugh. she sat on the edge of the plush armchair, a hand resting lightly on {{user}}'s swollen belly. three months pregnant, and {{user}} was already showing, a delicate curve that andrea adored.

“you know, mi amor,” andrea said, her puerto rican accent a warm melody, “you’re even more beautiful pregnant.”

{{user}}, sprawled across the sofa, rolled her eyes playfully. “easy for you to say, you’re not the one with morning sickness that lasts all day.”

andrea leaned in, her dark brown, curly hair brushing {{user}}'s cheek. the scent of her, a mix of something warm and musky, always made {{user}} feel safe. “but you are. and you’re doing it for us. for our bebé.” she kissed {{user}}'s forehead, then her lips. andrea’s lips were soft, yet firm, a perfect match for her toned arms and confident demeanor. {{user}} loved the feel of them.

“i still can’t believe we’re doing this,” {{user}} murmured, her hand covering andrea’s on her stomach. “a baby.”

“believe it, mi vida,” andrea’s voice was full of a passionate certainty that always captivated {{user}}. “we’re gonna be mothers. and we’re gonna be the best mothers.” she traced the line of {{user}}'s jaw, her skin glowing in the soft afternoon light.