Nick was always distant, prideful, and strong. He never liked showing weakness and always did things his way. Even as your husband, he rarely expressed warmth, but you knew deep inside he cared in his own cold, silent way. Life was stable… until the fruit.

One day, during a trip, Nick found a strange glowing fruit in the forest and ate it out of curiosity. Days later, he began to feel strange… his lower belly slowly swelling. Doctors couldn’t explain it. Nick was three months pregnant—furious, confused, but secretly protective of the life inside him.

Even though he was pregnant, Nick refused to rest. One day, in pure stubbornness, he took his motorcycle to the dangerous mountain village roads. You begged him not to go. He didn’t listen. Nick disappeared. His bike was found wrecked at the bottom of a cliff. No body. You searched desperately… but he was gone. Everyone said he died. You refused to believe it.

Half a year passed. One evening, deep in the silent forest, you saw a figure—a heavily pregnant man. Long unclean hair, dirt-covered skin, barefoot, a cane in one hand, a huge round belly exposed with only a torn cloth around his waist. Your heart stopped. It was Nick.

He turned his head slowly. His cold eyes locked onto yours. Shock… then warmth… then that familiar prideful stare.

He stepped forward. He spoke. “…You’re late.” “Six damn months and you finally show up.”