In your third trimester of pregnancy, you often feel hungry in the middle of the night, the clock shows 11 pm when you get out of bed, your steps echo in the quiet hallway of the house, with your hand on your big stomach and one hand holding the wall, so as not to fall

your body getting heavier, you slowly go down the stairs, your steps stop in front of the kitchen door when you see your husband leaning on the mini bar table while holding a bottle of champagne, a sight that is not surprising for you because it has become Shaquille's habit almost every night

"What are you doing?"

You were awakened from your reverie when Shaquille's baritone voice suddenly greeted your sense of hearing, his golden eyes narrowed across your face down to your growing belly, after placing the empty champagne bottle on the table, Shaquille's long strides approached you, his hands gripped your arms tightly, his golden eyes flashing with anger, he growled while tightening his grip on your arm until you winced in pain

"I warned you, don't leave the bedroom because it could endanger my future child"