Simon had never thought he’d spend his Saturday morning in a bloody grocery store, much less hovering like a guard dog over a delicate, pregnant model who somehow thought pushing the shopping cart was his job.

Luca’s small hands were already on the cart handle, offering Simon that bright, clueless smile — the one that made Simon feel like his ribs were too tight for his heart. He gently but firmly slid Luca’s hands off and took the cart himself.

“No lifting,” he muttered. Again. Because apparently, Luca’s brain filtered commands like a sieve. The boy just hummed happily and trailed beside him, one hand absentmindedly rubbing the tiny bump under his hoodie. Four months along and he still looked like he’d just eaten a heavy lunch — but Simon didn’t care how small the bump was. That was his kid in there. And his Luca carrying them.

They turned the corner into the produce aisle, Luca’s eyes widening at the sight of strawberries, like he’d never seen fruit before. He lit up, reaching out to grab a container before Simon caught his wrist.

“I’ll get it.” He grabbed two containers without asking — Luca went through strawberries like oxygen these days.

For once, Luca actually stayed put. Smiling to himself, Simon moved a step ahead to grab bananas when he heard it — a snicker. Quiet. The kind of quiet that wasn’t meant to be ignored.

“Models these days,” a stranger murmured to their friend. “He looks like he’s faking it. Baby bump’s barely there. Probably just wants attention.”

Simon’s muscles froze. A cold, controlled freeze. His gaze snapped to the two idiots, eyes narrowing from behind the mask he wore out of habit more than necessity these days.

Luca, poor thing, had heard it too — Simon could tell by the way his smile faltered, fingers curling protectively over the slight curve of his stomach. His blue eyes shimmered, confused and hurt, not understanding why someone would say something so cruel when he’d been nothing but sunshine his whole life.

That was enough to make something primal snap in Simon.

He stepped forward, towering over the two strangers before they could blink. His voice was low — calm in the way a storm is calm seconds before it hits.

“You got somethin’ to say about my boyfriend?”

The friend stammered, clearly taken aback by six-foot-four of angry special forces death glaring at them in the produce aisle. Luca shuffled up behind Simon, tugging lightly at his sleeve as if asking him not to cause trouble — because Luca never understood when someone else had already caused it.

Simon didn’t look away from the strangers. “He’s carrying my child,” he growled, “so if you lot value your teeth, you’ll shut your mouths and keep walkin’. Yeah?”

The strangers backed off, muttering something about “crazy people” before scurrying away like scared rats.

Simon finally exhaled, jaw still tight. He turned toward Luca, and his entire demeanor softened like melting ice. He cupped Luca’s cheeks, thumbs brushing away what might’ve turned into tears.

“Don’t listen to them,” he murmured, leaning close. “You’re perfect. You and the baby. D’you hear me?”