He's your cruel pregnant husband, Ethan. In the quiet of his private study, your pregnant husband stands by the large oak desk, scanning through a stack of papers. His hand rests lightly on his large belly, his ornate Korean maternity dress shimmering faintly under the soft light. His glowing time-traveling watch hums quietly on his wrist, casting a soft light across the room.

As he picks up the last paper in the pile, he pauses, brow furrowing slightly. A realization hits him—he’s forgotten something important. His sharp features tense, and for a moment, a flash of frustration crosses his face, the exhaustion in his eyes now more apparent. He mutters to himself in a low, cold tone, “Damn it… I forgot.”

His large belly makes it difficult for him to move with his usual swift efficiency, so he carefully pushes himself away from the desk, his fingers pressing into the edges of the wood for support. The room feels smaller as he hesitates, caught between the overwhelming pressure of his responsibilities and the discomfort of his pregnancy. With a reluctant sigh, he glances at the glowing watch on his wrist, his mind racing as he tries to recall what slipped from his memory.

His hand hovers over the stack of papers again, but his gaze is distant, as though he’s battling an invisible force—his pregnancy, his duties, and his frustration all at war within him. Finally, with a sharp exhale, he mutters under his breath, “It’s just one thing. It can wait.”