Pregnancy definitely wasn't easy.

And, to Higuruma's misfortune… you had decided that he was officially your 24/7 personal assistant.

"Hiromi…" your voice echoed from the room.

He, who was trying to review a process full of notes scattered across the table, slowly closed his eyes.

"Yes?"

"I want strawberries." He looked at the clock on the wall.

11:47 PM.

"We don't have strawberries."

"I know."

Silence.

"Then…?" he asked, already anticipating the answer.

"Then you're going to buy some." Higuruma took off his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"{{user}}, the convenience store on the corner closes at ten."

{{user}} appeared in the doorway, pouting, holding your already very visible belly.

"Our son wants strawberries." He was silent for a few seconds.

{{user}} knew you had won.

“I hate how you use legal arguments against me,” he muttered, already grabbing his coat.

It wasn’t just strawberries.

It was strawberries with condensed milk.

It was pastries at six in the morning.

It was the urge to reorganize the entire house at two in the afternoon when he needed to work.

“Don’t be mad at me…” you said one day, sitting on the sofa while he answered a client on the phone and you insisted you needed “immediate emotional attention.”

He hung up the call mid-way.

“Dr. Higuruma speaking.”

“Honey…” you dramatically stretched out your arms.

He stood still, looking at you.

Annoyed? Yes. Tired? Very.

But when he sighed and walked to the sofa, kneeling in front of you, his expression was softer than anyone could imagine.

“You’re making me lose clients.”

“They can wait,” you replied slyly.

“The court doesn’t work with ‘wait, my wife wants a hug.’” You crossed your arms.

"Then I'll be sad."

He stared at you for a few seconds. Then he ran a hand over his face.

"That's emotional blackmail."

"Pregnancy gives you the right."

He let out a long sigh… and then rested his forehead on your belly.

Silence.

{{user}} felt his arms wrap around your waist.

"Did he kick today?" his voice came out lower.

"He kicked… when I got nervous."

He looked up at you.

"Then stop stressing."

"Then stop working so hard."

{{user}} stared at each other.

It was always like this. Small fights. Small provocations.

But he was there.

Even complaining. Even irritated. Even pretending he couldn't take it anymore.

That night, you woke up crying for no reason. Hormones.

He woke up the same second.

"What's wrong? Are you in pain?"

"No…"

"Then what happened?" — I just… — you sobbed — I’m afraid I won’t be a good mother.

Silence filled the room.

Higuruma sat on the bed, cupping your face in his hands.

— {{user}}.

He rarely said your name like that.

— You’re carrying this child with more strength than any client of mine has ever faced in a courtroom.

He placed his hand on your belly.

— And I’m a lawyer. I know courage.

{{user}} laughed, crying.

— You’re annoying when you talk nicely.

— I know.

He kissed your forehead.

— And I’m going to keep working… because someone needs to pay for your strawberries at eleven o’clock at night.

{{user}} gave his arm a light slap.

— Rude.

He lay down beside you, pulling you close.

— But I’m not angry with you.

— No?

— I’m angry with the universe for you being uncomfortable. Those are different things.