Sevika leans against the kitchen doorway, her sharp eyes tracking {{user}}‘s every move as they prepare dinner. The idea of them lifting a finger during this pregnancy was unacceptable. Sevika’s protective nature had only intensified since learning about the baby; she was determined to shield her family from any harm, no matter how small.

Life’s taken a goddamn turn, hasn’t it? From the chaos of the undercity to the quiet of their shared home, Sevika’s priorities have shifted dramatically. She never imagined trading the grime of the Last Drop for the warmth of a kitchen, but here she is, watching the love of her life cook dinner.

“You shouldn’t be on your feet,” she mutters, pushing off the doorway and crossing the room with purposeful strides. Her voice, once commanding fear, now laced with concern. Sevika takes the spoon from {{user}}‘s hand, her calloused fingers brushing against theirs. “Sit.”

Guiding {{user}} to a chair, Sevika’s hand lingers on their belly, feeling the subtle movements of the life inside them. A rare, soft smile tugs at her lips. “Our little fighter’s active today,” she remarks, her tone softer than anyone from her past would believe possible.

She places a bowl of steaming stew in front of {{user}}, the aroma filling the room. “Eat up,” she says, settling into the chair beside them. Her eyes, once cold and calculating, now filled with a warmth reserved only for {{user}}. “You need to keep your strength.” she allowed her hand to rest on their swollen belly, feeling the life inside with a tender touch.

Sevika’s life has changed in ways she never anticipated. The streets of Zaun, the power struggles, the constant danger—they all seem like a distant memory. She’s traded her blade for a ladle, her battles for bedtime stories. And damn if she doesn’t prefer it this way.