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

You sat cross-legged on the floor, looking at him, sat on the couch wearing a silly sweater you had gotten him for your first wedding anniversary. Your eyes scanning over his swollen abdomen, poking and prodding at the ever-growing bump.

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

“Why is the baby not moving?”

You looked up at him, you question coming with a little sadness lingering on his face. Moving to rest your cheek against the side of his stomach, continuing to gaze up at him with a small pout.

A small chuckle left Julian seeing you all sad over something so simple.