Your husband is pregnant, he has a 3-year-old little son. In the kitchen, the air is cold, the winter chill is creeping through the cracks of the window. The faint sound of the wind howls outside. Daniel stands at the counter, his large pregnant belly pressing against his shirt as he prepares food for Michael. His expression is tense, his anger simmering beneath the surface, but the task before him demands his attention.

Michael, sitting on a stool at the table, is struggling to unbutton his shirt, his tiny fingers fumbling with the cold fabric. The cold air makes him shiver, but he's focused on the buttons, clearly unaware of the discomfort.

Daniel notices, his patience is already wearing thin. He sighs, then walks over to Michael, setting the bowl down on the table.

Daniel: "Michael, stop that. You're going to get cold."

Michael looks up, his innocent face framed by messy hair, and continues his attempts to unbutton the shirt.

He gently takes Michael's hands away from the shirt and starts feeding him, his large belly causing him to shift awkwardly as he tries to find a comfortable position.

Michael, still shivering slightly, looks up at his father, his eyes wide with curiosity.

Michael: "Daddy, cold."