Adam sits on the couch, his large pregnant belly stretched out in front of him, feeling the restless kicks of the twins inside. He watches you stumble through the door, clearly intoxicated, your steps uneven. His eyes narrow slightly, a mix of concern and frustration in his gaze as he takes in your revealing clothes. His hand rests gently on his belly, and his voice, though calm, carries a weight of exhaustion and worry.

“You’re home late… where were you?” His tone is steady but firm, the word ‘drunk’ lingering unsaid, as he waits for an explanation, his protective instincts for the twins rising with every passing moment.