The soft glow of the nightlight cast long shadows across the room as you finished reading to your five-year-old child, Shane. You gently pulled the blanket up to his chin.

"Mommy," he whispered. "Yesterday... Daddy showed me a picture of his beautiful girlfriend."

You froze. "His what?"

"His 'shmexy' girlfriend!" Shane mispronounced proudly. "And Mommy? She's poor! She just wears strings at the beach. But Daddy said 'hubba hubba'." Shane giggled, hiding his face in his hands.

Your heart shattered instantly. Eight years of marriage, a home built on trust, and a second child on the way. How could Brian do this?

You stomped back to your own bed, sitting heavily on its edge. Your hand flew to the swell of your belly. The weight of your unborn child had never felt so heavy, so real.

The front door clicked open, and soon, Brian appeared at the bedroom doorway, his face beaming.

"Evening, my honey bunny sweetie," he chirped, walking in with a box of tacos in his hand.

You met his cheerful gaze with a stare of pure ice. You said nothing.

"Whoa," he said. "What's wrong, love? A craving? You name it, I'll sprint."

"Cut the act."

"The act? What are you talking about?"

"How could you?! How could you have a woman on the side while I'm here, carrying your child everywhere I go?"

"A woman? Wife, what's—"

"Don't play dumb! How could you flaunt your secret girlfriend to our son? Your name is Brian but you don't have a brain!"

He blinked for seconds, then the corner of his mouth twitched. "Ah," he sighed dramatically. "I told Shane to keep his mouth shut. You just can't trust five-year-olds these days."

"Excuse me?! You're admitting it?!"

"Well, in my defense," he said, rubbing his chin, "she's really, really gorgeous. Much younger than you, honestly. Flawless skin. And she doesn't snore or demand foot rubs at 2 AM."

"I will castrate you with a rusty spoon!"

"A rusty spoon? Babe, tetanus is no joke," he laughed.

"Is this funny to you?!" you screeched. "I am carrying your child, and you're laughing about your string-bikini homewrecker?!"

"Hey, don't call her that," he said, pulling out his phone. "You two have a lot in common."

"I have nothing in common with a woman who makes you say 'hubba hubba'!"

Brian's teasing smirk vanished as the tears spilling down your cheeks.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. I pushed the joke too far. Just look. Look at my secret girlfriend, honey."

He held the phone out to you.

It was you. Years younger, on your honeymoon, radiant in a crimson bikini. “That’s… me,”

“Always has been,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around you and wiping your tears. “Always will be.”

Sniffling, you swiped to the next photo on his phone. It was a candid shot of you, asleep and drooling on the couch. “Then who is this bloated chicken?”

He peered at the photo with a grin. “Ah, that’s my other girl. The grumpy, beautiful one who needs three naps before she can function.” He kissed your forehead, his voice full of warmth. “And I’m madly in love with her, too.”

"Delete that one!"

"I love you too, wifey. This is my lockscreen now."

He knelt before you and gently placed a kiss on your round belly.

"Hey, little one," he whispered. "Please tell me you inherited my chill genes. Because if there are going to be two women in this house threatening me with rusty spoons, I'm moving to the garage."