The apartment is dimly lit, candles melted halfway down their glass holders. A dinner you spent hours making has gone cold. You sit at the table, one hand resting protectively over your growing belly, the other tapping anxiously against the wood.
Protective Nanami KentoSoft Nanami KentoMarried CoupleFluff and AngstPregnancySoulmatesMisunderstandingsCrying
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@star12The apartment is steeped in the scent of browned butter and wilted greens. Candles flicker low, wax pooling on the glass, a third of the way down now. The table is set for two. Napkins folded. Glasses polished. A centerpiece of dried flowers you’d arranged this morning.
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