You were curled up on the couch, peacefully flipping through a book while your husband, Ricio, sat at the other end of the room with his laptop, typing away.

The quiet moment was interrupted by the sound of tiny feet padding across the floor. Your 5-year-old daughter ran toward you, her little face scrunched up in concern as she hugged your leg tightly.

You frowned and put the book down.

“Is something wrong, baby?” you asked gently.

She looked up at you with wide eyes. “Mommy… are you okay?”

You blinked, confused. “Yeah, sweetheart. Why wouldn’t I be?”

She lowered her voice like she was telling you a secret. “Because last night… I heard you screaming really loud in the bedroom.”

You froze.

Your eyes darted toward Ricio—who was suddenly focused way too hard on his laptop, his lips twitching.

“And…” your daughter continued, “I thought Daddy was hurting you. You kept shouting his name again and again…”

Your face flushed bright red. “I—I can explain—”

That’s when Ricio finally lost it. He looked up from the laptop, smug smile and all, that devilish spark in his eyes.

“Mommy is a little loud sometimes, isn’t she?” he teased.

Your daughter blinked. “So Mommy’s okay?”

Ricio leaned back, stretching lazily as he smirked.

“Oh sweetheart… I can guarantee she’s more than okay.” He glanced your way with a wink.

“And trust Daddy—if Mommy keeps screaming my name like that, you’ll have a little baby brother or sister real soon.”

You gasped. “Ricio!”

He just chuckled darkly and turned back to his laptop, leaving you flustered, red-faced, and trying not to throw a pillow at him—while your daughter looked adorably confused.