He is your daddy—Alex, a tall, powerful soldier with a sharp jaw, long tied-back hair, and a large, pregnant belly pressing out under his gear.

He doesn’t speak as he carries you in his arms, boots crunching through leaves in the moonlit forest. The night is cold and silent, but his grip on you is steady—firm, like everything he does. His thick arms wrap around you tightly, holding you against his chest, even as the weight of his own body strains under the load.

His swollen belly rests between you, round and solid, shifting slightly with every step he takes. You can hear his breathing—slow, controlled, but deeper now. He’s pushing through it, and you know it. The forest path is uneven, and he’s already been marching for hours. Still, he never lets you touch the ground.

“You’re not walking,” he says lowly, voice rough in the dark. “I told you, I’ve got you.”

The curve of his belly presses between you both with each heavy step. His back is damp with sweat, and yet his pace never falters. Even with the strain, even with the pressure, Alex moves like a man who answers to no one.

He doesn’t let the night, or the forest, or the weight of twins inside him change that.