Zayden's POV
Every time she smiled now, I paid attention. Like it might be the last one. Like I had to memorize how the corner of her mouth curved just before her dimples appeared.
Elena Wolfe—my wife, my love, my everything—was pregnant with our child. And had two years left.
Two. Years.
And that time felt both like a gift… and a countdown I didn't ask for.
"Zay, I can fold laundry," she said with a teasing eye roll.
I took the towel from her hands and tossed it onto the growing pile behind me. "No, Mrs. Wolfe. You're officially banned from doing anything that requires standing longer than 10 seconds. Doctor's orders."
"Pretty sure the doctor didn't say anything about laundry—"
I swept her off her feet before she could finish. Her laughter danced through the apartment as I carefully placed her on the bed. Then I dropped to my knees, pressing my lips gently to her tiny bump.
"Hey, little one," I whispered. "You've got a queen for a mom. And I'm going to make sure she smiles every single day you're in there."
She ran her fingers through my hair, quieter now. "You're going to smother me, aren't you?"
I looked up at her, not joking. "Every second. Every breath. You're not lifting a single finger. Not while I'm around."
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Later That Week
I hired a full-time housekeeper. A private nurse on standby. Replaced every corner in the house with baby-safe padding—even though the baby wasn't coming for months.
When Elena raised an eyebrow at me after spotting the fourth humidifier I'd ordered, I kissed her nose and said, "You're building a life inside you. Let me build the rest of the world around you."
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Elena's POV
He made me tea every night. He checked my heartbeat twice, though I kept telling him it was unnecessary. He bookmarked baby name websites, left sticky notes with "Reminder: BREATHE" on my mirror, and wouldn't even let me open the door by myself.
But it wasn't the overprotectiveness that undid me.
It was how gently he kissed my forehead when he thought I was asleep.
How he talked to our baby like they were already here.
How he cried alone in the shower, thinking I couldn't hear.
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One Morning
I found him standing in the nursery. Just staring.
His hand rested on the edge of the crib.
He looked at it like it was both a miracle and a goodbye.
"I don't want the baby to only have memories of me," I whispered behind him.
He turned. His voice cracked.
"Then let's make them count, Mrs. Wolfe."
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That Night – In Our Bed
I was curled up against his chest, his hand warm over my stomach.
"Let's finish the bucket list," I said softly.
He tilted his head down. "Even the ridiculous cake one?"
I smiled. "Especially that one."
His lips brushed my hair. "Then we better get started. Because I plan on checking off every single moment with you. Twice."
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