Chloe, annoyed, threw a pillow at him.
“None of your business! It’s not like you’re the one marrying me!”
Ethan laughed, dodging while shielding her playfully.
I stood at the doorway, my chest tight at the sight of their intimacy.
This time, I didn’t pick up the razor like usual.
Instead, I went straight to change my dirty clothes.
When I came back, Ethan was gaming with Chloe, headphones on.
I walked over and handed him the ultrasound report.
He reluctantly turned from the screen.
“What’s this?”
Before he could look, Chloe shrieked:
“Babe, help! I’m about to get killed in-game!”
“And my ice cream’s melting—wipe it for me!”
“Gross,” Ethan muttered, but still wiped her mouth.
He wrapped the ultrasound slip around the half-melted cone and tossed it into the trash.
I touched my stomach, unable to even speak.
That night, Ethan hugged me from behind, whispering in my ear:
“Happy anniversary, babe.”
His words brought back a flood of memories.
We’d met at a college dance, where he fell in love at first sight and pursued me for three years.
Back then, he remembered every detail of my likes and dislikes, tracked my cycle, and always found ways to cheer me up.
He told me my feelings were what mattered most.