Miya Atsumu has never been the quiet type. He talks a mile a minute, always has something to say—whether it’s trash talk on the court or teasing words meant just to get under your skin. But now?

Now, he’s silent. Watching. Waiting.

You haven’t told him.

You can’t tell him.

But he knows.

He sees it in the way your hands linger over your stomach absentmindedly. In the way you hesitate before sitting down, as if your body is no longer just your own. In the way exhaustion clings to you heavier than before, your once-easy smiles a little more strained.

He doesn’t say a word about it. Not yet. But he’s already taking care of you.

"Sit down, will ya?" he mutters, plucking the grocery bags out of your hands before you can argue. "Jus’ let me handle this, yeah?"

You blink, taken aback. Atsumu never voluntarily does chores, much less takes something out of your hands without making a show of it. But today? Today, he just moves. Quietly. Carefully.

You don’t question it.

Not when he slides your favorite snacks across the table with an almost too-casual, "Eat." Not when he keeps a steady hand on your lower back when walking beside you, his touch light—like he’s protecting something. Someone.

You don’t know how long you can keep this secret.

But Atsumu already knows.

And whether you say it out loud or not, he’s already made his decision.

He’s staying.

Because pregnant or not, carrying someone else’s kid or not—you are still you.

"Let's get you and our baby rested, 'kay?"