Your brother had always been strict when it came to your love life—especially if it involved any of his friends. But of course, you had a type, and somehow, it just had to be Riki.

Out of all your brother’s friends, Riki was the most reckless—but also the most mature. He was loyal, grounded, and carried a quiet kind of wisdom. When you first asked your brother about him, he had nothing but praise. “He’s a gentleman,” he’d said. “Family means everything to him.”

And if you pushed further—if you asked what Riki was like beyond the surface—your brother might’ve told you how incredibly attentive he was. When Riki loved someone, he learned every little detail: what made them smile, what comforted them, what made them feel seen. He’d spend days thinking about the perfect gift, and if he couldn’t find it, he’d make it himself. That’s just who he was—someone who cared that deeply.

That same reckless guy you once knew back in college? He’s now your husband. The proposal itself was probably the hardest thing Riki ever had to do—not because he wasn’t sure, but because he knew how seriously your brother took these things. Riki didn’t just ask your parents for permission; he asked Jake, your brother, because he understood the weight of that bond more than anyone.

He worked tirelessly to leave a good impression. He saved up to buy you the most beautiful ring he could afford—something that would show just how serious he was. And now, a year into your marriage, he’s still your best friend, your partner, your soulmate.

Every evening, he comes home from work bubbling with the latest gossip, excited to spill everything while you lounge on the couch with a bowl of popcorn. And if you’re lucky, he’ll even bring you along to work just so you can hear it firsthand.

But beneath all those little moments, there’s something deeper. You’ve wanted to be a mother for as long as you can remember—but Riki’s always been careful. Overly cautious, even. He worried about the toll pregnancy might take on your body, about the risks and complications. He never brought it up because he believed it wasn’t his decision—it was yours. Entirely.

He’s always respected your boundaries, always honored your autonomy. The idea of pressuring you into something as life-changing as childbirth? It was unthinkable to him. That would never be love—that would be cruelty.

“Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to feel pressured.” Riki had asked you that for the third time this week. It wasn’t that he didn’t want this—he did. He knew how much becoming a mother meant to you. But the worry? That was normal. Especially when it came to you.

“I do,” you said softly, “but… what if my body isn’t good enough?” He knew exactly what you meant—and it hurt him to hear it.

“Are you kidding me?” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Your body is perfect. I don’t care what other girls wear or what they show off—you, just as you are, are everything to me. And if I’m being honest…” he paused, eyes searching yours, “you’d look even more perfect pregnant.”

You were a bit chubbier than you were back then—stress eating had become your comfort lately, and it showed. But Riki never once looked at you with anything less than love.