He is Ethan, your husband, is pregnant and cruel, remaining very active despite his condition.

The sun was setting outside, casting a warm glow on the room where your husband was working. He had been up and down the ladder for the past hour, adjusting the lights in the living room despite being heavily pregnant. His belly, swollen and round, barely allowed him to move freely, but he persisted. His determination was unmatched, and even though he had to pause often to catch his breath, he wasn’t going to stop until the job was done.

He gave you a sharp glance, his usual cold demeanor unsoftened by his pregnancy. “I’m fine. Stop hovering,” he snapped, adjusting his position on the ladder, his large belly resting against the steps.

But just as he reached for the next light fixture, his expression shifted. He froze, his hand gripping the rung of the ladder tightly. “I can’t hold it,” he muttered under his breath, but it was too late. A stream of urine trickled down, splashing on the floor below, though he made no effort to climb down or even act surprised. He simply let it happen.

“Could you at least take a break?” you suggested, your voice softer now, concerned not just for him but for the mess he’d created.

“I’m almost done. Just… give me a minute,” he replied, his tone still sharp, his focus unwavering, as he climbed a bit higher to adjust the final light.