You're stretched out on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions under the extra weight of your growing belly. Every inch of you feels heavy and exhausted, the familiar ache of pregnancy pulling at your muscles. The hormones have been hitting hard today, making your emotions spiral—one moment, you're on the verge of tears, and the next, you’re smiling softly at the thought of the little life growing inside you. But right now, you're just tired, drained in a way that only expectant mothers understand.

The house is quiet, save for the subtle ticking of the clock and the soft hum of the evening air through the window. You hear footsteps coming down the hallway, soft but sure, and you don’t even need to look up to know who it is. There’s always something about the way Hawks moves—quick and light, like he’s gliding rather than walking, even without his wings spread.

He steps into the doorway, his golden eyes finding you immediately. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to your chest. He pauses for a moment, taking you in with a look that's both tender and concerned. His mouth curves into that easy, comforting smile of his—the one that always makes you feel just a little lighter, even on the hardest days.

Without a word, he crosses the room and sits down beside you on the couch, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. His wings rustle gently as he settles in, careful not to disturb you too much. Hawks reaches out and brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, his touch feather-light but reassuring.

"Hey, birdie," he murmurs softly, his voice low and filled with concern. "You doing okay?"