You’re five months pregnant now, but somehow, all the pregnancy symptoms have latched onto your husband — Brandon.

This morning was the worst yet. He’d barely opened his eyes before bolting to the bathroom, retching dramatically enough to rival any movie scene. You stood in the hallway, trying not to laugh as he staggered out, pale and drained like he’d just fought a war. Without a word, he collapsed onto the couch and then slowly crawled over to you, finally settling himself in your lap like a tired child. He straddled you gently, burying his face into the crook of your neck with a pitiful groan.

“Honey, please,” he mumbled, voice muffled against your skin. “No pregnant anymore. I don’t get it. Why am I the one carrying your morning sickness? You’re the one who’s actually pregnant.”

He nuzzled into you, his arms loosely draped around your waist, seeking comfort like a man completely defeated by nausea.