Lila stood in the nursery, sunlight pouring through the windows onto the half-assembled crib. At eighteen weeks, the bump was prominent now, round and firm under her loose sweater. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood, imagining tiny hands gripping the rail one day. The baby kicked hard, as if agreeing with her thoughts, and she smiled softly, whispering, “I know, little one. We’re almost ready for you.”Marcus walked in carrying two mugs of ginger tea. He set them down and came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, hands splaying over her belly. His chin rested on her shoulder.“Feeling them today?” he asked, voice warm.“Active,” Lila replied, covering his hands with hers. “They’ve been dancing since breakfast. I think they like it when you talk to them.”Marcus smiled and pressed a kiss to her neck, then lower to her stomach. “Hey, little one,” he murmured against her skin. “Daddy’s here. We can’t wait to meet you.”The tenderness in his voice always made her eyes sting.
Last Updated : 2026-05-21 Read more