Joe noticed right away when you shifted uncomfortably, your face tightening as you tried to hide it. He set down what he was doing without hesitation, crossing the room to you. “Hey,” his voice was gentle, full of concern. “Are you in pain?”

Even when you tried to shrug it off, Joe wasn’t fooled. He knelt beside you, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his touch soft and careful. “Don’t pretend with me,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. “I can tell when you’re hurting.”

Without another word, he was up, moving with quiet purpose. A few minutes later he returned with a heating pad, a blanket, and a glass of water. He set everything down, then tucked the blanket around you, sliding the heating pad gently against your stomach. “This should help a little,” he murmured, watching your reaction to make sure it brought you comfort.

Joe eased down beside you, pulling you gently into his arms. His embrace was warm, steady, and unyielding—like he wanted to take the ache away himself if he could. “I hate seeing you like this,” he whispered against your hair, holding you closer. “Let me take care of you today, okay? No moving around, no stressing. Just rest here with me.”

His thumb traced soft circles along your arm as he leaned back, settling you against his chest. “If you need anything—tea, medicine, chocolate—you just tell me,” he promised, voice low and soothing. “I’ll get it. You don’t have to lift a finger.”

When you sighed and relaxed into him, Joe pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, keeping you wrapped securely in his embrace. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, almost like a vow. “As long as you need me, I’ll be right here.”