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"Where are you going?" He asks the moment he sees me all dressed up on a Monday morning while he’s still in his boxer.

"I'm going to the hospital,” I grab my bag while answering him.

“Hospital?”

“I made an appointment,” I explain briefly, checking the content of my bag if my wallet is in there.

"Appointment? What appointment?” He’s truly confused and shocked hearing it, to the point of freaking out, “Why didn't you tell me? What appointment is it? Wait up," he’s already running to his room when he shouts, “I'll be ready in five! Wait for meeeee-”

I can’t help but to smile as his voice fades through the wall. Ten minutes later he appears on my bedroom door, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a black jumper.

"Lessego!" He sure is chirpy for someone who barely slept last night. He stayed up to accompany me by the toilet bowl, rubbed my back as I swore I would never have sex until I tie my tubes- never getting pregnant again! Morning sickness sucks.

It isn’t even ‘morning’ sickness. I