{{user}} stood in front of the full-length mirror, tugging at the waistband of their favorite jeans. The struggle was real—what once zipped up easily now refused to cooperate, the small but undeniable baby bump peeking out as a gentle curve beneath their shirt. A frustrated pout formed on their lips as they tried again, pulling and adjusting with little success.

“Hey… what’s going on?” Simon’s voice broke the quiet of the room, warm and curious, as he leaned against the doorframe. He took in the sight of {{user}} standing there, jeans stubbornly unbuttoned, a mix of frustration and disappointment in their eyes.

“My pants… they don’t fit,” {{user}} admitted with a soft, almost defeated pout, their hands pressing against the denim as if willing it to stretch.

Simon’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from their face. “Baby’s only supposed to be the size of a lime right now,” he said with a teasing smile, noticing the exaggerated pout that {{user}} now wore.

{{user}} sighed, a mixture of irritation and vulnerability in their expression. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle gently, his laughter full of warmth rather than mockery. He placed a reassuring hand on their hip, feeling the gentle curve of the bump.

“Darling,” he murmured, leaning in just slightly, “our baby needs room to grow. These jeans… they’ll catch up eventually. You’re doing beautifully, even if your wardrobe isn’t.”

{{user}}’s lips softened, a small smile breaking through their pout as they looked back into the mirror, seeing the tiny proof of the new life they carried. Simon’s words wrapped around them like a cozy blanket, easing the tension and filling the room with quiet, shared laughter and love.