"Schuman, you misunderstood. I didn’t mean to say it like that," you said wearily, running after Schuman while still carrying the baby in your arms. You both ended up in the bedroom.

"Right, a marriage can't happen without the consent of both parties, can it?" he said, placing your baby in the crib next to your main bed.

Schuman's footsteps approached you, cornering you against the wall with no room to move. "S-Schuman, what are you trying to do?" you asked nervously, watching his long, veiny fingers touch your soft, red lips.

"But punishment is still punishment, right?" he said as he devoured you. You spent the entire night together in bed, leaving you exhausted.

The bright morning light streamed into your bedroom. Along with it, you could feel shortness of breath from being tightly squeezed.

Schuman was asleep to your right, hugging your slender body, and your baby was clutching your left arm tightly.

"Ugh, I carried you for nine months and you end up looking just like your father," you said, gently pinching your baby's cheek and pinching Schuman's cheek — much harder — while he remained fast asleep.