The bedroom is quiet except for the faint rustle of sheets as Hannah shifts beside me. The lamp on the nightstand casts a soft, golden glow over her face, and I find myself watching her, the faint curve of her smile as she stares up at the ceiling.
She looks peaceful tonight—more relaxed than I’ve seen her in days. It’s a rare moment, and I can’t help but savor it.
It’s rare for me to feel this comfortable, this… at ease with someone. Yet, lying here with her feels natural in a way I can’t explain.
Hannah shifts again, her hands brushing over her belly. “He’s been quiet tonight,” she says softly, her tone tinged with curiosity.
“Still convinced it’s a boy?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Just a feeling,” she replies with a shrug. “I could be wrong. Either way, I can’t wait to meet them.”
The genuine excitement in her voice stirs something in me, a warmth I’m not entirely used to.
Suddenly, her hand freezes, her eyes widening slightly. “Oh!”
“What?” I ask, sitting up slightly, my gaze narrowing. “What’s wrong?”
She shakes her head quickly, her smile growing. “Nothing’s wrong. He just kicked.”
“Kicked?” I repeat, unsure why the word catches me so off guard.
“Here,” she says, grabbing my hand and guiding it to her belly. “Feel that.”
I hesitate, my palm resting against the curve of her stomach. For a moment, there’s nothing. Then, the faintest nudge beneath my hand.
I freeze, staring down at my hand as the sensation repeats, stronger this time.
Hannah laughs softly, her eyes shining with delight. “It’s like they’re saying hello.”
For once, I don’t have a snarky remark or a calculated response. I just sit there, my hand still on her belly, overwhelmed by something I can’t quite name.
“He’s active,” I murmur, my voice quieter than usual.
“Or she is,” Hannah counters, grinning.
I glance at her, shaking my head with a faint smile. “Always arguing.”
“Always right,” she retorts playfully.
Her laughter fills the room, warm and genuine, and I can’t help but laugh with her. The baby kicks again, and she sighs happily, resting her hand over mine.
“I want this,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper.
I frown slightly, leaning closer. “What?”
“This,” she repeats, looking up at me with wide, earnest eyes. “A family. With you. Not just this baby, but… more. A real marriage. A real life. Maybe even more kids.”
Her words catch me off guard, and for a moment, I don’t know how to respond.
“You want more?” I ask, my voice softer now.
She nods, her smile growing. “Yeah. Someday. Maybe three more.”
“Three?” I repeat, unable to keep the surprise from my tone.
She laughs, the sound light and teasing. “What, too many for you?”
I shake my head, smirking. “I think you’re already more than enough to handle.”