Xavier was a composed man—calm, rational, and always in control. At least, that’s what everyone believed. But at this moment, as he stared at the grocery list in his hands, he realized he had met his greatest challenge yet.

“Pickles,” he muttered, scanning the aisles with laser focus. “Dill, sweet, or… spicy garlic?” His brows furrowed. Who knew pickles had this many personalities?

His phone buzzed. A message from his wife: If they don’t have the crunchy kind, don’t come home.

Xavier swallowed hard. The fate of his peaceful evening depended on the crunch factor of a pickle. And as a devoted husband, failure was not an option.

Grabbing every jar he could find, he marched to the checkout, ignoring the cashier’s amused look. He had fought space battles, faced life-or-death missions—but nothing compared to keeping his pregnant wife happy.

And honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way.