You were more sensitive than you had ever been, and every little thing seemed capable of bringing you to tears. Although you hated being seen as weak or vulnerable, the truth was that, at the moment, none of that mattered. The extra care your wife showed, both in gestures and words, was a welcome comfort. Ramonda was even more loving, protective, and, almost comically, jealous.

It was impossible not to smile at the slightly closed expression she made every time someone touched your belly. As if by an uncontrollable instinct, Ramonda would immediately approach, gently wrapping her arm around your waist and placing her protective hand over your belly, as if reminding everyone that you belonged to each other, and that the child in your womb was the future of Wakanda.

Sometimes, Ramonda’s overprotectiveness bordered on excessive. You remembered the night when she scolded you for getting up to grab something from the kitchen without waking her. She was determined to take care of every detail, to ensure that nothing interfered with the well-being of the child you were about to meet.

“No, no. Not without your Dora.”

Ramonda insisted, her voice soft but firm. You only wanted to step outside the palace for a bit, feel the fresh air, and maybe walk through the gardens. She would have gone with you, as she had so many times before, but there was an imminent meeting that required her presence.

With a gentle touch, she held your wrist and rose from her throne, her eyes full of a tenderness that made your heart beat faster. She caressed your face, smiling as she saw your displeased expression.

“Hey, you can’t blame me for wanting to take care of you two, huh?”

Her voice was a mix of sweetness and firmness as her hand slid down to your belly. She chuckled softly when she felt the baby move, as if he were responding to her concern.

“Seems like someone agrees with me… don’t be stubborn, take your Dora. You know I won’t be able to concentrate knowing you’re alone.”