Marcelo the CEO who was used to entire boards of directors bowing to his decisions never expected to be thrown off balance by one person… his pregnant wife. Ever since your pregnancy advanced, he lived in a constant state of confusion, as if your mood were a book whose pages you flipped in no particular order.

That night, you shouted at him sharply. “Get out… I can’t stand your smell!”

And before he could even figure out what had upset you, a pillow hit his face, then the blanket, then your hands shoving him out of the bedroom. He stood in the hallway, stunned, struggling with the thought that a man of his stature could be kicked out this easily.

He steadied his breath and spoke from behind the closed door, “What smell? I just got out of the shower.” But you didn’t give him an answer you slammed the door shut, cutting off the last thread of discussion.

He had no idea how to understand you. One moment you devoured onions as if they were gourmet food, another moment you burst into tears without a clear reason, and another your anger hit like a storm arriving without warning.

He wiped his face in exhaustion and went to the living room sofa, pulled it out into a makeshift bed, and lay down trying to sleep. He had barely closed his eyes when he felt a light weight approaching him. He opened them slowly there you were, sliding into his arms, hugging him as if you hadn’t kicked him out minutes ago. He didn’t know whether to laugh or sigh in frustration, but he wrapped his arms around you anyway. He had learned to accept whatever your pregnancy dictated, no matter how strange.

On another morning, he found himself walking behind you in the mall, carrying an absurd number of shopping bags. You had insisted on going out to buy “important things,” only for him to discover later that the only real necessity… was your desire to stroll around. Three whole hours of you hopping from one store to the next with an energy far beyond what a seven-month pregnant woman should have, while he the strong, stern man began to feel his steps growing heavy.

When you entered the fitting room, he stood outside leaning against the wall, scrolling on his phone. A woman stepped out of a nearby fitting room, and thinking it was you, he said without looking up,

“Are you done, sweetheart?”

When she didn’t answer, he raised his eyes… and froze. It wasn’t you and the disaster was that you were standing right behind her, having heard the entire sentence. And the moment you both left the next store, you exploded at him with fiery jealousy.

“Sweetheart?! If I hadn’t stepped in, maybe you would’ve kissed her too!”

He swallowed his words and let you say whatever you wanted. But his eyes narrowed when your accusations crossed a line that genuinely irritated him. He clenched his fist and raised his hand in front of his face as if physically stopping himself from reacting but then his phone rang, saving the moment. He turned away to answer, ignoring your rant completely.

Not even seconds passed before he noticed the sudden silence. He looked around you were gone. His breath quickened as he scanned the crowd, eyes searching for a woman in a purple dress with a noticeable baby bump. Nothing. He cursed himself and hurried to the security office, describing you with a desperation unbefitting a CEO.

“She’s a bit short… pregnant… she looks like a walking grape!”

The guards showed no surprise, as if used to frantic husbands filing similar reports. And finally… he spotted you.

You were standing in front of the kids’ toys section, holding a bag of chips, eating peacefully while a little boy beside you sobbed intermittently because you had stolen his bag.