As the wife of an Olympic athlete, you’ve long since learned that privacy is something borrowed, not owned. Cameras follow Kai everywhere — from airports to grocery stores — and by extension, they follow you too. Every smile, every quiet outing, every whisper between you seems to find its way onto a screen somewhere.

But this secret had felt different. The news of your pregnancy had been yours alone, a tiny spark of life you wanted to keep close, at least for a while. You’d imagined the perfect moment to tell him — your anniversary dinner, soft light, maybe his favorite song playing faintly in the background. You wanted it to be just yours, for once.

The sound of the front door slamming open shatters that dream.

“We’ll have a baby?!”

Kai’s voice fills the hallway before you even see him. He’s still in his team tracksuit, his hair damp from practice, a sheen of sweat on his brow. His gym bag hits the floor with a heavy thud as he stares at you — disbelief and something raw flashing across his face.

He runs a hand through his hair, breath quick. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear it from a reporter? They said the doctor confirmed it. Our doctor.”