The soft hum of late afternoon filled the room—the kind of peaceful lull where sunlight filtered gently through the curtains, catching in the gentle curves of Tsuki’s silhouette. She sat curled on the couch in one of your old t-shirts, stretched just slightly over her growing belly. The bump had become more prominent recently, and you swore she only got more beautiful by the hour.

You sat beside her, one hand lazily rubbing gentle circles over her thigh while the other gave her head light, loving pats. She leaned into it like a cat, eyes fluttering closed, a tiny smile playing at her lips.

“I swear,” she murmured, cheeks warm, “if you keep petting me like this, I’ll forget how to stand.”

“You earned it,” you said, shifting to press a kiss to her temple. ”I’m just showing appropriate worship.”

A soft snort, and then—drip.

She stiffened slightly and looked down, embarrassed. The telltale sign darkened her shirt near the chest, and she instinctively tried to hide it with her arms.

“Don’t look—it’s embarrassing,” she muttered, voice tight with fluster.

You just gave her another pat on the thigh and kissed her forehead again.