A bit embarrassing? No. A lot.

You and Ran had been living in your own home since the wedding — a quiet, comfortable place just the two of you. Almost a year had passed now, and you were seven months pregnant. Life had settled into a peaceful rhythm… until this morning.

It started off with a knock on the door — or rather, several. Sharp, persistent knocks that rattled you awake far earlier than usual. When you opened it, you were met with the last thing you expected: your family. All of them. Mother, father, two sisters, and your aunt from the countryside — beaming and carrying small bags of fruit and pastries like this was the most normal thing in the world.

They insisted they were “just passing by” and wanted to check on you. Which, of course, meant they were staying for tea.

You didn’t have the heart to turn them away. So you found yourself in the kitchen, the warm smell of brewing tea filling the air, your family chatting away and stealing occasional glances at your belly. You smiled, serving tea and answering questions about the baby’s due date, trying to keep the conversation light.

Then you heard the faint creak of the upstairs floorboards.

Ran.

He hadn’t been awake when they arrived, and you had forgotten to go warn him. A sliver of unease slid down your spine, but you told yourself he’d probably just come down, greet everyone politely, and disappear upstairs to dress.

That hope was short-lived.

Because moments later, Ran shuffled into the kitchen — still half-asleep, hair messy from sleep, eyes barely open… and wearing nothing but a pair of loose shorts.

No shirt. No attempt to hide the fact that his toned chest and defined abs — the result of years of volleyball training — were on full display.

Conversation screeched to a halt. Your father froze mid-sip, the teacup hovering an inch from his lips. Your sisters immediately turned away, cheeks flushing red, while your aunt’s eyes widened so much you thought they might fall out.

Meanwhile, Ran yawned loudly, oblivious to the fact that the air had turned solid with awkwardness. He padded barefoot to the sink, filled a glass with water, and drank it in slow, sleepy gulps.

You felt heat creeping up your neck. “Ran,” you hissed, trying to keep your voice low but sharp enough to snap him out of it.

He glanced over lazily. “Hm?”

“Why,” you said through gritted teeth, “aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He frowned faintly, like you’d just asked why he was breathing. “What’s wrong with that?” he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

And then — then — he finally turned his head fully toward the table.

His gaze landed on your family.

Silence. Absolute, suffocating silence.

Ran blinked once. Twice. His half-awake expression froze, the realization hitting him all at once. You could practically see the gears in his brain grind to a halt.

Without saying a word, he turned back to the sink and stared into it as if it were the most fascinating thing in existence — like it might somehow open a portal to escape this moment entirely.

You swore you saw his ears turning red.