Cravings. They were constant, and so damn annoying. Overwhelming too, especially now.

Now, three in the morning to be exact, where you sit awake in bed, seven month pregnant belly and all, on the verge of tears over food of all things.

A sleeping Simon Riley laid beside you, not yet aware of your oncoming breakdown.

You didn’t want to wake him with how hard you knew it was for him to find peace and rest. He was close friends with insomnia. But god, your hormones were getting to the best of you, and all you wanted was food.

Before you realize it, the tears had fallen, a sniffle only triggering more.

And your husband’s instincts, even in his sleep. Because the next thing you hear is the slight rustle of bedsheets, and the voice you knew too well.

“What’s the matter, mamas?”