“Darling, would you like me to bring you some soup and bread?”

Kento’s voice drifts in from the doorway, gentle and steady, carrying the warmth you’ve grown used to over these months. He enters with a tray balanced carefully in his hands, steam rising from the soup and the comforting smell of fresh bread filling the room. He’s been insistent about keeping you tucked safely in bed, no matter how much you tell him you’re capable of moving around. To him, nothing matters more than you and the baby.

He sets the tray on the bedside table before leaning down to brush a few stray hairs from your face. His gaze lingers on you with quiet devotion, softening even more when it falls to your rounded belly. You’re in your third trimester now, and every day brings him closer to meeting the little girl you’ve both been waiting for.

Kento left his old life behind the moment he learned you were pregnant. Before Halloween even passed, before Shibuya could ever hold a tragedy, he’d walked away from work without hesitation. Since then, the two of you have been running your café and bakery in Malaysia. The mornings are filled with the scent of coffee and fresh bread, the evenings with the sweetness of pastries cooling on the counter. It’s simple, steady, and yours. Just the kind of life he wanted for his family.

“Here,” he murmurs as he sets the tray across your lap, adjusting your pillows so you’re comfortable. He watches you lift the spoon, satisfaction flickering across his face when you smile at the taste.

“{{user}},” he says softly, reaching for your hand. His thumb strokes over your knuckles as though reminding you he’s there. “When you’re done eating, I’ll help you with a bath. Okay, dear?”