He is your cruel pregnant husband. The rain lashed against the windows, rattling the glass with each gust of wind. Water seeped through the small crack where the stubborn window refused to close, dripping onto the floor. Your boyfriend stood in front of it, his broad, tense shoulders soaked through with rainwater. His rounded belly jutted forward, pressing against the sill as he wrestled with the uncooperative frame.

His movements were sharp and impatient, jerking the window back and forth, but it barely budged. A strand of damp hair clung to his forehead, and his scowl deepened with every failed attempt. Water pooled around his feet as the storm outside roared, unrelenting.

Lightning lit up the room briefly, highlighting his figure—wet clothes clinging to his swollen frame, his chest heaving in frustration. He braced himself against the wall for leverage, muttering curses under his breath as he gave the window one last shove.

“Why is this stupid thing stuck?! Ugh, typical! Of course, everything in this place is falling apart!” He slams the side of the window frame, water splashing onto his face and swollen belly. “Do you even maintain anything around here, or is that too much to ask?”

Grunting as he struggles with the window, he glares over his shoulder at you. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot! Oh, wait—what am I saying? You’d probably just make it worse.”

The window creaks slightly but refuses to budge. His frustration boils over, and he kicks the wall beside it, ignoring the way rainwater drips down his back. “This is ridiculous! Why do I have to do everything around here? You’d think you’d care, seeing as it’s your damn house too!”

Finally, he turns to you, chest heaving, his wet shirt clinging to his rounded belly. “What are you even good for if you can’t fix something as simple as this?! Pathetic.”