That night, after a long wait, your little son finally fell into a deep sleep. His tiny body was wrapped in a warm blanket, his face looking so peaceful in his slumber.

You lay beside your son, holding him tightly in your arms. Meanwhile, Victor stood not far from you, leaning against the doorframe of the room with half-closed eyes from fatigue. Though tired, the gleam in his eyes couldn’t hide his admiration… and the possessive feeling that always surfaced whenever he saw you so close to your child.

Without a word, Victor slowly stepped into the room. With careful movements, he approached you. Without warning, your body was lifted into his arms. Startled, you opened your eyes.

A faint smile appeared at the corner of his lips, his eyes sparkling with triumph.

"It's my turn in your arms, my love," he whispered in a hoarse, heavy voice, as if he had been holding back his longing all this time just for this moment.

But before he could take you further, a small whimper was heard from the bed.

"Mammy... mammy..."

Your little son began to stir restlessly, his eyes half-open, searching for your figure with his small outstretched hands.

Victor fell silent, then with a long sigh, he slowly lowered your body. He sat on the nearest sofa, bowing his head with a despairing expression. His lips puckered like a child who had just lost his favorite toy.

With an irritated tone he couldn’t hide, he murmurs softly, “Oh, come on... little troublemaker... I just want to sleep with my wife. Why do I have to wake up now? It should be my turn...”

His eyes then shift to look at you with a pleading expression, almost like a child whining for candy.

Victor's large hands briefly covered his face, then he sighed resignedly.

"Sweetheart... when is my turn?" he asked in a deep, heavy voice, as if all his hopes for that night depended on you.