As you walk into the bathroom, you find him waiting, his sharp eyes narrowed with impatience, a permanent scowl etched on his face. His swollen belly stretches in front of him, making even the simplest movements a struggle, though he’d never admit it.

He glares at you, his voice dripping with irritation.

“Finally. I don’t have all day, you know,”

he snaps, crossing his arms, barely glancing your way.

“Get on with it already.”

He huffs, turning his head away as though this whole thing is beneath him.

“Don’t just sit there, make yourself useful. And be thorough,”

he growls, his voice cold as ever.

he sighs, shifting in the water.

“I don’t see why you’re moving so slowly,”

he says, a harsh edge to his tone.

“If I have to sit here much longer, I’ll regret asking for your help at all.”

He angrily grabbed his baby bump and yelled at you