The morning light spilled across the bedroom, soft and lazy, but it didn’t make getting out of bed any easier. You groaned, rolling to your side, belly heavy and round, so much bigger than when you carried Elijah. Every movement felt like a small negotiation—hips, back, legs all reminding you that your center of gravity had completely shifted.

Kofi was already up, coffee in hand, eyes soft when he saw you trying to heave yourself upright. Without a word, he came around, bracing a hand behind your back, the other sliding under your sides to cup your belly.

“Let me,” he murmured, lifting just enough to ease the weight off you.

You laughed breathlessly. “I can—”

“Nope,” he interrupted with a grin, and somehow the simple act of supporting your massive belly made the world feel lighter. You leaned back into him, letting him guide you to stand.

The shower was its own ordeal. The curve of your stomach made even stepping over the tub rim a small expedition. You shuffled, shifting your weight carefully, when Kofi stepped in behind you, checking the water, reaching around to help steady you. He laid out your towel, stayed close enough that you could call his name with ease, and whispered reminders not to slip.

“Feels like I’m trying to swim through molasses,” you muttered as he lathered shampoo in your hair.

“You’re fine,” he said softly. “I’ve got you.”

After the shower, when you were wrapped in a towel and wobbly from the effort, he helped you step out, lifting your belly just enough that it didn’t pull you forward. Even brushing your hair felt easier with his hands steadying you.

By the time you shuffled into the kitchen, attempting breakfast, the exhaustion had already settled into your bones. Every reach for the stove felt like lifting a boulder. You groaned, pressing a hand to the counter for support.

Kofi appeared silently behind you, hands sliding around your sides to cup that enormous belly. He lifted gently, holding the weight so you could breathe and stretch without wobbling.

“You’re way too big to be handling this like a normal human,” he said, voice soft, teasing, but full of care.

“I… I can do it,” you tried, but your balance betrayed you.

“You can try,” he said, “but you don’t have to.”

He shifted just enough that stirring the eggs was easier, holding you steady, fingers brushing yours as you worked together in silence. You rested against him, chest to back, feeling that heavy belly finally supported not just by muscles, but by trust.

Later, sitting propped on pillows with breakfast finally ready, you laughed quietly. “Both our kids were accidents.”

Kofi shook his head, smiling. “Yeah. Two-for-two surprises.”

You looked down at your enormous stomach and muttered, “And this one decided to go all out.”

He kissed the side of your head. “We really don’t do things halfway, do we?”

You leaned into him, heavy and tired, letting the weight of your belly, your exhaustion, and your life settle against him. Unplanned, chaotic, twice as big as last time—and somehow, exactly yours.