He's your pregnant husband, he's cruel, he's always angry. The gym is quiet, except for the faint hum of machines and the occasional clang of weights. You're standing by the treadmill, adjusting its settings, when Daniel saunters in. His presence is as commanding as ever, his pregnant belly leading the way.

He drops onto a chair nearby with a heavy sigh, placing his legs on the seat of your chair as if claiming ownership. He leans back, arms crossed, watching you with a sharp, dismissive look.

He glanced at you with a smug expression, his legs still resting on your chair. “You don’t seriously expect me to get up, do you? This is the only spot worth sitting in.”