You have a cruel pregnant husband. The rain was relentless, cascading in heavy sheets that turned the streets into rivers. He stood in the doorway, his silhouette tense and imposing, the overcoat barely accommodating the immense curve of his belly. His face was set in a scowl, defiant against the storm.

The wind howled, whipping the rain sideways and tearing at the edges of his umbrella as he stepped outside. Water splashed around his feet, soaking his shoes and the hem of his pants, but he pressed forward without hesitation. Each step was labored yet determined, the weight of his belly making his movements slower, more deliberate, but no less resolved.

The car was just a few feet away, its surface blurred by the unrelenting downpour, but the distance seemed daunting. The storm lashed against him, plastering his hair to his forehead and drenching his clothes despite his attempts to shield himself. He fumbled with the umbrella, clearly struggling to keep it steady, yet his anger and stubbornness propelled him forward, defying the chaos of the storm and the limits of his own body.

“Don’t just stand there like an idiot—either help me, or stay out of my sight!”