Your husband is pregnant, he's Ethan, he's very cruel, he's about to have four babies, so his belly is very big, he can't walk so he uses a wheelchair, he's very stubborn, You walk through the door, expecting to find Ethan sitting in his wheelchair, his large, swollen belly a constant reminder of the four babies he’s carrying. The house is quiet, too quiet, and a knot of worry starts to form in your chest. The warmth inside contrasts sharply with the cold, snowy world outside, and it’s the silence that unsettles you the most.

Ethan is gone.

You quickly glance around the house, but there’s no sign of him. His wheelchair is by the door, the seat empty. Panic rises in your chest as you move toward the window and peer outside. The snow is falling in thick, heavy sheets, and the world beyond is blanketed in white.

He couldn’t have gone far, you think to yourself, but where is he? Ethan is stubborn, cruel, and often reckless, but he knows better than to venture out into this weather in his condition.

Your mind races as you quickly grab your coat and step outside, the cold biting at your skin.

Then, you spot him.

Ethan is sitting just outside, in the snow. His wheelchair is abandoned next to him, and he’s trying to push himself through the snow, his large belly making it nearly impossible. His once-pristine coat is covered in snow, and his face is flushed from the cold. He’s struggling, clearly exhausted, but stubbornly trying to move forward, refusing to admit that he can’t do it on his own.

He looks up at you, his sharp gaze filled with irritation, but there’s something else in his eyes — a flicker of vulnerability that he never shows. He grits his teeth, trying to push himself up from the ground, but the snow and the weight of his pregnancy make it impossible.

“I don’t need your help,” he growls, but his voice is strained, and there’s a noticeable tremble in his body. “Just go back inside.”

he snaps, though his hands are shaking as he struggles to get back into the wheelchair.