Simon and you had been married for a decade, a journey filled with laughter, love, and challenges. Together, you had built a large, bustling family with five children, and now, you were expecting your sixth.

It was a chaotic evening at home. The kids were running around, their laughter and shouts echoing through the house. You were in the kitchen, trying to prepare dinner while simultaneously keeping an eye on the younger ones. Simon walked in, his shoulders slightly slumped from a long day at work.

“Hey,” he greeted, planting a kiss on your cheek. “How are you holding up?”

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Surviving. Just another day in paradise.”

He chuckled, glancing around at the whirlwind of activity. The older kids were arguing over a board game while the younger ones were attempting to build a fort out of cushions. He shook his head, a fond smile on his lips.

But then, as he looked at you, his expression turned more serious. “We have too many fucking children, love,” he muttered, though there was a hint of humor in his voice.