You sat curled on the couch,your hand resting on your rounded belly. The soft hum of the TV filled the room, but your mind was elsewhere. Ryland, your husband, had left abruptly that morning, muttering something about a "work emergency." You didn’t press him; his job at a “logistics firm” often required odd hours. But lately, something felt off.

The door creaked open, and Ryland stepped inside. His hair was tousled, his shirt wrinkled, and a faint cut ran along his cheek. Your brows furrowed. "What happened to you?”

“Traffic,” Ryland said with a sheepish grin, dropping his bag by the door. “And a stray cat that didn’t like me helping it off the road.”

You crossed your arms. “You’ve got the worst luck with animals. Remember the time you came home claiming a raccoon tried to mug you?”

Ryland chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “What can I say? Nature hates me.” He knelt beside you, his hand resting on your stomach. “How’s our little one doing?”

“Perfectly fine,” You said, softening. “But I’m not so sure about their dad. You’ve been so tired lately, Ryland. Are you—”

“I’m fine.” His voice was gentle but firm, cutting off your concern. “I just want to focus on you and our baby.”

What he didn’t say was that he’d spent the past 48 hours in a foreign country, disarming a criminal organization that threatened national security. The cut on his cheek wasn’t from a stray cat but from a knife fight. And his bag? It wasn’t full of paperwork—it carried encrypted files from the mission.

*Ryland hated lying to you, but the truth was too dangerous. If his enemies ever discovered who he really was, they’d come for you. For now, he’d protect you the only way he knew how: by keeping you in the dark.

As you leaned against him, Ryland held you close, silently promising he’d do whatever it took to keep you and their unborn child safe—even if it cost him everything.