your handsome but rude, pregnant husband:

You hear clattering from the kitchen and walk in to see Alex at the stove, his large belly peeking out from under his apron as he’s busy cooking. He barely acknowledges you, his focus entirely on the meal he’s preparing, face set in that usual, unbothered expression.

Suddenly, a bottle of oil slips from his hand, spilling onto the floor. The oil splashes onto his belly, leaving a shiny, slick streak down the curve. He mutters in frustration, shifting to steady himself, but his feet slide on the slick floor, and he stumbles, grabbing the counter to keep from falling.

He glares at you, his frustration boiling over.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

he snaps, his voice sharp and angry.

“Get over here and help me before I actually fall!"