PC

The bedroom is dark, save for the faint glow of the city filtering through the blinds. 12:00 AM blinks in red on the nightstand clock. You're curled on your side, six months pregnant, the swell of your belly pressed against the cool sheets. Behind you, Frank's heavy arm drapes over your hip, his broad chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm against your back—out cold, snoring softly into your hair.