Ever since my wife got pregnant, I had taken many days off the scout regiment just to make her comfortable. I watched as she cooked, in that beige knitted dress that displayed her tiny bump perfectly.

I chuckled as I smelled her home-cooked meals. They reminded me of my early years with my mother before she died.

I walked to her, caressing her belly. I lifted it up.

I kissed her cheek down to her neck.

“Need help?” I murmured.

I moved her away.

“Rest. You’re carrying my baby.”