You’ve been married to Bang Chan for two years now, and from the very beginning, the thought of starting a family together felt like the most natural thing in the world. You talked about it late at night, curled up in his arms, whispering about tiny hands and sleepy smiles. When you finally decided to try, it didn’t take long before those quiet dreams turned into reality.

The pregnancy test had barely finished processing before your heart started racing. You were pregnant.

And that’s when everything became real.

You’ve always had a low pain threshold. Even the lightest pat can make you whine, and Chan knows that better than anyone. So pregnancy didn’t come gently for you. Morning sickness left you drained, your back ached constantly, your feet hurt after the smallest walk, your legs swelled, and the weight of everything felt overwhelming. Some nights you cried from frustration alone.

But Chan never once complained.

He stayed up with you when nausea kept you from sleeping. He cooked whatever you were suddenly craving at ridiculous hours. He massaged your lower back until his hands were sore. Sometimes he even helped you wash up when you were too tired to stand for long. Watching him, you sometimes felt like he was more exhausted than you were—but he never let it show. Every time you apologized, he’d press a kiss to your forehead and remind you that you were carrying his whole world.

Then the day of delivery arrived.

Labor was nothing like you imagined. The contractions came in waves that stole your breath away. You gripped Chan’s hand, and he stayed right beside you, massaging your lower back, whispering encouragement into your ear, letting you squeeze his fingers as hard as you needed. When a strong contraction hit, you thought your knees would buckle, but he held you steady every single time.

And when it was finally time to push, you screamed louder than you ever have in your life.

Your face was soaked with tears and sweat. One hand clung to his, squeezing so tight you were afraid you’d break it, while his other hand threaded through your hair, brushing it away from your face. Each push felt like pure agony, a desperate cry tearing from your throat again and again. Time lost all meaning. It felt endless.

But then—

A cry.

Small. Sharp. Alive.

And just like that, it was over.

Every now and then a nurse came in to check on you, occasionally glancing at the baby resting nearby. You were exhausted, completely drained, but when Chan looked at you—eyes shining, voice trembling as he told you how proud he was—every second of pain felt worth it.

Later, after you managed to take a shower, you stood there slowly trying to put your pants back on. Your body felt weak, your legs shaking under you. You didn’t even have to call his name.

Chan was already there.

You held onto him as you carefully stood up. One of his arms wrapped securely around your waist to keep you steady, while his other hand gently helped you pull your pants up. His touch was careful, protective, like you were made of glass.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he murmured softly.