Life had changed. Simon had settled down, found a steadier path—one that made room for both his work and his personal life, pregnancy included.

{{user}}, his wife, had gotten pregnant seven months ago. It wasn’t planned. He had wanted time—wanted to do more with her as a couple before bringing a child into the world. Still, the pregnancy was welcomed. And somehow, his body had made that clear before his mind fully caught up.

It started quietly. Random cravings. Nausea that came and went. Sleepless nights he blamed on stress, on work, on anything that made sense. Nothing alarming enough to question.

Simon hid the symptoms at first, convinced he was coming down with the flu. But they didn’t pass. They followed the rhythm of her pregnancy, week after week.

At four in the morning, he sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, fighting a heavy wave of nausea. {{user}} stirred beside him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, voice thick with sleep.

He only nodded, silent.

At her eight-month OB-GYN appointment, curiosity finally got the better of him. He asked the doctor about what he’d been experiencing, keeping his tone casual, almost dismissive.

The doctor smiled, a soft laugh escaping her. “Sympathetic pregnancy,” she said. “You’re experiencing what she’s going through.”

The words settled heavier than he expected.

Simon Riley was so deeply attached to his wife that his own body had reacted alongside hers—mirroring the pregnancy in the only way it could.

Not because he was weak. But because he was present.