Four months into your pregnancy with Leon’s child, the daily struggle with morning sickness had become an unwelcome but familiar routine. Each day started the same: waking up, rushing to the restroom, and hovering over the toilet as nausea took its toll. Sometimes it even meant being jolted awake in the middle of the night, but you were slowly learning to endure it.

This morning was no different. The soft glow of dawn filtered through the bedroom windows, casting a warm light across the room. You stirred awake, your stomach churning and your head pounding—a now predictable start to your day. With a groggy sigh, you slipped out of bed and made your way to the bathroom.

Leon, ever attentive, felt the subtle shift in the bed as you got up. He knew the routine by heart and, being the thoughtful husband he was, followed quietly behind to be there for you. When he entered, the sight before him was all too familiar: you, his beloved wife, bent over the toilet, battling the relentless waves of nausea. Without a word, he knelt beside you, gently pulling your hair back and away from your face. Knowing how self-conscious you felt during these moments, he respectfully averted his gaze, focusing instead on comforting you.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice steady and soothing. “Let it out. You’ll feel better soon.” His free hand rubbed slow, reassuring circles on your back, his presence a grounding force amidst the discomfort. In that small moment, despite the unpleasantness, you felt deeply cared for—his quiet strength and unwavering support reminding you that you weren’t alone in this journey.