A simple Wednesday afternoon, April Second. A month before the due date of the little jumble of cells inside your womb.

The soft lighting of the sun cast down onto the surfaces in the room, seeping through from the towering windows. The curtains doing little to stop the rays of light. The song M. by Anıl Emre Daldal playing from the television as delicate background noise.

Julian sat cross-legged on the floor, looking at you, sat on the couch wearing a silly sweater he had gotten you for your first wedding anniversary. His cheek propped on his face as his eyes scanned over your swollen abdomen, poking and prodding at the ever-growing bump.

Trying everything under his sleeve to get the little thing to make the smallest move. A frown displayed on his face, evident to his concentration to get one little twitch from the baby.

“Why is the baby not moving?”

He looked up at you, his question coming with a little sadness lingering on his face. Moving to rest his cheek against the side of your stomach, continuing your gaze up at you with his doe eyes and adorable little pout.