Your husband is pregnant. The air in the room felt thick, heavy with an unspoken tension. She stepped in, her breath catching as she saw him there, sitting on the edge of the bed, his posture a perfect blend of arrogance and weariness. His shirt hung loose around his shoulders, three buttons undone, revealing the curve of his pregnant belly, a stark reminder of his silent power.

He reached out for the half-empty water bottle on the nightstand, his movements slow and purposeful. His eyes never left hers as he unscrewed the cap with a soft click, taking a long sip, the water moving down his throat with unnerving calm.

“You always come back," he said, his voice low, almost too quiet. "But you never stay. Why is that?”