#Home Collection

[hai7ani]

THE MEADOW haitani rindou

sfw, hurt/comfort, an extra to the home collection 𖠋

"Mama, a boy or a girl?"

A tiny voice speaks and you're woken up from your little daydream.

Your daughter's gentle voice bounces off the wall of her quiet yet peaceful bedroom. The loud ringing in your ears are put on pause and blood stops rushing to your head -- you feel as if you're sucked back into reality. It disrupts you from the mindless, ruthless picking of the skin around your thumb that's starting to bleed and all of a sudden you're back in the present again -- a wife and a mother, sitting in her daughter's bedroom on a Tuesday night with the sole mission of checking in on her.

Wide, glossy purple eyes that so mimics the man she calls her father and he whom you call your lover, stares up at you from your chest and you smile a little at her expression.

"Dunno yet, 'Kiya. It's still early to know." You reach a gentle hand up to brush her bangs backward and reveal her forehead. You lean down to press little kisses on her tofu-like skin -- two smooches and three pecks -- and she pouts at your reply that has refuted the answer she's wanted to hear. "Mama, Sakiya wanna know now."

"A little longer, 'kay?" You pull away from her head to run a thumb over her temple. She gives slow blinks at your gentleness -- you know it has always succeeded in making her sleepy. But Sakiya seems to know of your little trick, so she leans back, away from your thumb, straightens her spine up a little, and she hums in defeat. But your baby still giggles a little when larger hands of yours move to tickle her sides gently -- an attempt to distract her from making a fuss.

She doesn't, and instead, your baby decides to rest her head back down on your mounds with small arms tightening around your frame and your nose sours a little at her gesture -- it reddens, and suddenly you're reminded again of her father.

And then you hear soft padding behind you both. You don't need to turn around to know who it is, and Rindou plops down beside you both on the floor -- he's still in his work clothes, most probably still working on some leftover paperwork he's decided to bring home with him tonight.

No doubt he's been standing there the entire time. You sort of knew he was there the moment he had decided to eavesdrop on the two of you -- the cologne that was sprayed onto his work clothes selling him out -- instead of coming in to say what he's wanted to say.

What more can he say, anyway?

You can feel his deject before he even opens his mouth, and he doesn't -- Rindou doesn't say a thing and he sits there while relishing in whatever he is currently feeling. Perhaps it is guilt. You don't know at this point, you don't want to assume -- not after the tone he's chosen to pick up with you earlier after coming home in what seemed to be annoyance. Not at you -- at his coworkers. You know that much, but you seemed to have received the end of it. It didn't feel nice -- it made you feel like nothing despite the way he still finds it in him to put away your laundry back in the closet after passing by the couch.

Sakiya doesn't acknowledge his presence outrightly. You don't look at him.

He sighs.

You hear a small clatter against the parquet, and your eyes move to take a quick glance. Your heart stops beating in your chest for a long minute, but you don't make it known.

You've half-expected him to see it -- it's placed in such an obvious place, he'd be an awful fucking husband to not notice. But you did not expect him to bring it to you; to look at you after with so much emotion held that almost makes you want to give in and cry when you peep at his eyes.

The pregnancy test looks so small in between the three of you on the floor compared to how big it seemed when it sat in the safety of your palms back in the morning -- shaky hands belonging to you who was alone, unsure of what to do, with no husband to yell for, and a girl eating sliced kiwi by the breakfast table who is still so young that you don't know what to tell her -- if you should be telling her this soon in your pregnancy that is still yet to be confirmed by a doctor.

But she finds out anyway. Sakiya has always been a smart girl. A gifted one too -- many would say.

And she suddenly tugs on the strap of your nightgown.

So you decide to ignore. You ignore him.

You continue indulging in Sakiya's little blabbers of telling her more about babies and you kiss her cheek after every sentence that you speak. You try to keep it as simple as possible -- that Mama and Daddy fell in love, had her together.

And you think your baby is so sweet when she flashes a toothy grin and soft almond eyes fold into thin crescents at the mention of you and her father -- she's always loved listening to the stories that you and Rindou tell her about the past; your youths, your memories that are still so vivid when playing in both your heads, your love for each other that had eventually blossomed into a little girl named Sakiya . . .

And Rindou's heart cracks a little more underneath those ribs and bones when you still don't acknowledge him, even though he is sitting just there -- right beside you -- and holding his pointer out to which Sakiya had immediately wrapped her little hand around it after seeing.

You aren't looking at him but he knows you are so much more than upset -- you are heartbroken -- and he notices how you try so hard to look at everything but him (you want to look at him), choosing to play with your daughter's hair and nosing at her chubby cheeks instead. He sees the little quiver of your lips that grows a little more rigid when Sakiya turns to him and asks if he knows -- because his eyes has never once left you the moment he'd entered the room.

"Did you know, Daddy? A baby in Mama's belly, again."

He didn't.

Rindou had only found out that you were pregnant again just ten minutes ago when he'd entered the bathroom after finally finishing his paperwork. He pushes the door open, and the first thing that meets his eyes is the white pregnancy stick on the counter with two bold red lines slapping him in the face after he moves closer to take a look.

And his heart drops to his chest.

It all connects, and Rindou leans back against the wooden door with a soft thud, a towel bunched up and sits messily on one folded arm as he holds the test with both hands carefully and thinks about all that he's done.

Because Rindou had been mean to you earlier -- you were clearly trying to tell him something from the way you've been attempting to drag him off to where Sakiya couldn't hear, and he'd brushed you off.

You tried talking to him when he finally came home after work -- smiling ear to ear when you greeted him at the front door and kissing his collarbone as a silent yet intimate welcome home.

Welcome home to us.

And you say while scratching at your scalp that you've just finished cooking dinner -- if he wanted to eat first or to shower first -- while throwing in a remark that you need a shower too, maybe we can talk in the bath. He tells you he isn't feeling that hungry despite the message being sent to you earlier -- asking if you could cook some curry because he has been craving for it lately -- and you nod when he walks away despite feeling a little weird from his sudden change in behaviour because Rindou seldom ever comes home like this, moody and . . . curt.

So you follow behind after making sure that Sakiya is entertained with her TV show that you say in brief and short sentences about you and your daughter's day. You know he is always overwhelmed and tired after work -- you don't want to bombard him with too much information, so you keep it short and simple.

It's a habit how you decide to shift your attention away from your husband who is putting away your laundry in the closet and instead, fidgeting with a pile of his clothes that's yet to be hung up. You figure it's because you're nervous of telling him about the news, so you're finding ways to distract yourself while making the atmosphere less tense and Rindou sighs a little too loudly when you pause to hear his reply to your genuine question.

"Did you finish the bento today? Was the shimeji nice? I got up earlier to make it because it takes longer to cook."

He turns to you and purses his lips before laying a hand flat out with his palm facing the sky, and you stare at it. You blink a few times, unsure of what is it that he wants, so you figure to place your own in his with a cheeky smile. A tease is about to fall out of your mouth until he sighs again.

Rindou clicks his tongue, "the clothes." A deep frown forms on his forehead while he stares at the pile of fabric in your hands, and under the intense atmosphere that he's planted in the room, you're feeling warm everywhere. Not the kind of warmth that makes you all giddy on the inside though, but the one that sends a hurtful pang to your chest and you're forced to hand him the clothes when he snatches it out of your grip.

Why is he being like this?

You grow awkward when he doesn't say anything further after turning his back to you. And you must've been a fool -- a fool to not realise his growing agitation, when you open your mouth to tell him you'll be getting dinner ready.

You should've left. You should've just left him and his stupid attitude in there to get as mad as he wants. You should've went back to Sakiya and helped her in changing the channels -- your baby was calling for you and her father both. You realise then that he hadn't given Sakiya her forehead kiss that she looks forward to everyday.

But a loose thread from presumably one of his clothes swirls around in the air and ultimately, it finds its place on Rindou's hair.

So you don't leave. You and your stupid heart don't.

"Baby, I'll scoop rice. Come eat when it's still warm." You inch closer to pick away the white thread. You're only millimetres away from it -- it is so close to your fingertips. You'll pick away the thread and then leave him alone -- but Rindou turns back around before you're able to do anything.

It was all so sudden. You hadn't expected it. You never saw it coming.

And it seems that your sudden closeness to him had agitated him further.

"Fuck,"

You wanted to end the conversation.

"Can you stop talking?"

He thought you were going to speak more.

And that, with an angry, dark glare, paired with a very deep frown that you don't think you've ever saw this look of absolute anger and annoyance being directed at you before, is enough to make you step back, all silent.

"I'm tired. And you keep on talking. Can you do it later or something?" He spits, words a little mumbly but with a hurtful tut to it. You know he is never one to raise his voice at you or his daughter no matter the situation, especially now that Sakiya is here with newfound emotions that she's still yet to feel and learn how to regulate, but he did it today, and he clicks his tongue another time before swiftly resuming to his task at hand.

So the laundry was a means to ease his mind off things.

But you can see the slight falter of his demeanour when he turns around again -- not fully, just enough for him to look at you, to see the hurt in your eyes as you look at the floor, and upon feeling his attention, you lift your chin up to stare back at him. You gaze into his eyes that once held so much anger and annoyance in them -- it is now full of guilt and shame. Perhaps he is sorry for raising his voice at you, he is sorry for cussing at you, but he doesn't say a thing, and he turns his back to you again.

Though Rindou didn't outrightly yell at you, it doesn't mean that it hurt any less than having someone do it. You think it hurt more than that.

Your hand rests by your side, fingers twitching as you feel sweat gather in your palms.

The pain in your heart is suffocating.

You turn your back and close the door with a loud pang. It was a fury of thought, and it scared Sakiya. You immediately regret the action upon seeing the shock in her eyes, the stutter in her breath as she tries hard to regain her peace. "Sorry, baby. Mama's sorry." You apologise with a shaky voice while carrying her up from the couch and towards the kitchen. She nuzzles her nose in your neck with wide eyes after feeling your comfort while looking back at the door to your bedroom, where Rindou is not present.

He hadn't followed you out. He still hasn't tried to apologise.

So you don't talk to him the entire evening -- not even when Sakiya was tugging on the end of your shirt gently and asking if Daddy wants to eat dinner too through a mouth full of rice and curry. You'd simply wiped away the excess off the corner of her lips and adjusted her napkin hanging on her neck, "Daddy will eat later. We'll eat first."

And it's when you figure that you're done for the day and headed into your daughter's bedroom to check on her and give her some affirmations that Rindou finally heads into the shower and notices the stick on the counter.

It was a slap to reality. He hadn't realised until then that he was being unfair to you earlier -- those mean words and the ugly expression he's given you, it makes him want to punch himself for making you feel so unwanted, because he's always the one who tells you to keep talking, and listens closely as you do. Rindou had promised not to bring work and its emotions back home, and now he's gone and done this. He's gone and hurt you.

He broke your heart.

He'd stared at the stick for quite a long time, with vibrating eyes deciding to take a quick glance at the bin just beneath the counter -- filled with boxes and boxes of pregnancy test kits and they all have the same results.

You are pregnant again, and he sure is a big fool for not noticing it earlier -- how you've been starting to crave the same things you wanted when you were carrying Sakiya, how you've started to speak less as to not get emotional because he knows your sensitivity must be heightened and everything would seem sad to you, how you've been feeling more and more tired lately because of your hormonal change . . .

And he also knows that you aren't ready for a second child -- you'd said it to him one night before falling asleep that even though it's already been 4 years since you've given birth to Sakiya, you don't think your body is ready for another baby yet. The trauma, the pain, the healing for both mentally and physically, it is all too much for you to handle, and he understands. Your recovery process was rough and his heart hurts when reminded of the days you'd cry in his arms that you don't think you're cut out for this -- for being a mother. Baby blues had hit you hard and it'd took a long time for it to wear off on you. And yet he thinks that here you are, being the best mother one can ever ask for.

You've not made any plans together for a second child either, and though it may sound a little harsh and mean, but Rindou doesn't think he is suitable to be a father of two. Sure, his baby is well-behaved, but there are still days where Sakiya herself can be a little bit too much to handle -- she is still a toddler after all.

So to add in another in the family? Rindou is not sure if he can handle it.

His train of thought gets disrupted when Sakiya curiously shakes his hand a little. He gets pulled back to the present again with the motion, and finds that she's staring at him with wide eyes that mirrors his own. She's waiting for an answer. He brings her hand up to place a kiss on the back of her palm before rubbing gentle circles at it.

His gaze focuses back at you before choosing his words -- you're staring at the parquet while playing with a loose thread on Sakiya's Hello Kitty onesie that you got for her a few winters ago. She still fits in it, surprisingly, and it sure is her favourite one to wear to bed while her father pats her back to sleep and you're beside to run a palm over her hair.

"I didn't. Just found out." He decides to tell his daughter honestly. You bite at your lip to stop the quiver, the sadness in you growing tenfold when it finally sinks it after his words -- that this is how Rindou finds out about it. You wanted to be the one to break it to him. You wanted to be there to see the initial look of shock on his face when he realises. But that wasn't how it went, and instead, the reveal of your new happiness growing in your belly was found out by its parents separately, both alone, along with emotions of anger mixed in with a little fear.

This isn't how it should be. I'm sorry.

An endearing giggle breaks you both out of your minds with Sakiya shaking her father's hand and tugging at your dress at the same time. She's so happy at her father's response. "Sakiya found out before Daddy, Mama." She turns her head at you, laughing.

That alone is enough to have you crumble. And you start to weep when Rindou leans forward to rest his forehead on your shoulder. He then presses his cheek to your arm, scrunching his nose playfully at his daughter who is finding joy in pinching her father's cheek, while a hand of his snakes around your frame to find solace on your waist. It moves up and down, slowly, warmly, and he moves closer and closer until he's fully hugging you now. Despite the previous anger and sadness, you still let him do it though, and you too fight the urge to lean back against his chest and cry.

You instinctively hug your daughter close to your chest and press your face in her neck. She is so much more smaller than you are, but you don't think you have felt so safe holding someone in your arms. There is your husband, but he's been feeling a little distant lately.

Sakiya wraps herself around your neck a little tighter at your sudden movements -- as though she had sensed something was wrong, and something is wrong. "Mama." She calls out softly as a habit and you hum, albeit a little broken and hoarse, but she knows that you've responded to her -- she knows that you're here with her -- and it is all that matters.

His chest tightens when you fix yourself quickly -- a little sniffle, a wipe to your eyes, and you choose to push away your emotions. You are still avoiding him -- his eyes -- choosing to focus on your 4 year old who is babbling mindlessly into your chest instead and you're grinning brightly when she tries speaking in English. She's started picking up the language from you, perhaps by listening in on a few of the conversations you'd have with Rindou on the dinner table in a foreign language still not taught to her yet because there are things you don't want her to hear, to know. Bills, taxes, the car loan, are we getting groceries on Saturday or Sunday? Baby's birthday is coming up, do you have any ideas on what to do?

Rindou's moved so close to the point he has his chin on one of your shoulders with both hands securing around you and Sakiya as he listens to the two of you converse, with you trying so hard to avoid his steady breath as it fans over the expanse of your skin. It's so tempting, but you stand your ground.

Sakiya then spurs out a little something cheerfully -- you don't know the word she's trying to say, but it is cute and lovely to hear her try and you pat her butt with another soft kiss to her forehead.

And for a split second Rindou thought he'd seen you in your arms -- your face in your arms -- because despite what you and so many other people tell him, he thinks that Sakiya looks much more like you than she looks like him -- she's got your smile, your chin, your hair, your grace, your silliness . . .

Yet she also looks so much like him, and he finds his fleeting mind wandering further and further whenever Sakiya would sit on his lap and look straight into his eyes with a big, toothy smile. It is as though he is staring into a mirror -- at a reflection of himself, and through her eyes he sees so many things, like the young boy from Roppongi who is still so little with so many high hopes to so many new things in life, and always, the one thing that stands out the most is love: a warmth that has a bit of a red and orangey tinge to it when she hugs him as he carries her around, the flower of her father's name that she scribbles with coloured crayons on A4 papers daily to practice her 4 year old handwriting, and she's calling for you to come look at this 'new' scar on Daddy's eyebrow that has actually been there for the past 20 years.

He'd smile a little at the vision -- he doesn't think it's weird. Of course he'd see love in her.

Because Sakiya is love. It is evident with the times she'd randomly high five strangers in public, in restaurants with other kids her age, in daycare where she's almost friends with everybody her age due to her cheerfulness, and especially the times she'd sleep in your bed -- squeezed and coddled between the both of you -- with small arms still holding onto the bunny her father got her when she was still a newborn. She refuses to let you wash it too.

A total contrast of her father, and yet she's so much like him.

"Baby, you look so much like your Daddy." He hears you whisper to your daughter who is grinning widely in your arms with both little hands now covering yours that cups her cheeks. It makes him start chewing off the skin on his bottom hip when he sees the soft look in your eyes as you point out the similarities of him and your daughter. He was so mean to you earlier; mean for no damn reason at all, and his guilt starts eating him alive when Sakiya lulls her head to the side with eyes that are about to close.

"Mama, dodo." "Dodo? Okay."

You start moving at it, and Rindou watches with a careful yet loving gaze hidden behind half-lidded eyes as you carefully manoeuvre her body properly into your arms and stand up. He notices that you're avoiding your lower abdomen a lot, and despite being sleepy, Sakiya is also careful when positioning her little legs -- he figures that you've already briefed her a little by yourself on what not to do now that you're pregnant and your body is a little more vulnerable than usual.

A part of him screams for him to do it instead -- to stand up and put Sakiya to bed instead of letting you who is in a much more vulnerable state to do so.

And the other part of him doesn't let himself move to put your daughter to sleep despite it being something that he always does -- he is always away during the day for work, so you let him have a little space for himself to spend some time with his daughter alone at night. The sick part of him wants his eyes to admire the pretty outline of your body -- your alluring back, the way your neck looks when faced under the moonlight from the curtains that you leave open just a little because Sakiya doesn't like the dark a lot, your bottom that he loves touching at so much but he resists his itchy hands for now.

You're cradling your daughter warmly as you bounce her gently in order to coo her into sleep faster and his mind travels back to the times when Sakiya was still a newborn -- all those sleepless nights of waking up abruptly at 3 in the morning to her cries, and you'd shush her gently with a kiss before pulling up the top of whatever you're wearing to breastfeed and pat her back to sleep with tired yawns and droopy eyelids.

Caring for babies were still new to the two of you and yet Rindou would always stay up with you while rubbing your sore back despite being told to go back to sleep because you can handle it. He remembers vividly the way you've always looked like an angel when cradling your newborn in your arms as you hum a soft lullaby that Granny had always sung to you when you were still her age.

And Rindou thinks you look so pretty when your nightgown sways a little with you as you bounce and rock your baby in your arms, humming the same lullaby to her ear as she finally falls asleep.

His wife, the mother of his children. His lover -- you.

"Goodnight, 'Kiya." You kiss her forehead before placing her back in her crib and she hums tiredly. "Night night, Mama."

Sakiya doesn't say it to Rindou. He feels a little hurt, but eventually accepts that he deserves his daughter's neglect tonight to have treated you in such a way. You pick up your things in one hand and move to exit the room, so he quickly reaches down the crib to place a kiss on Sakiya's forehead while rubbing a few slow circles on her temple, to which she starts snoring gently at it.

And he follows silently behind you as you head back into your bedroom and sit by the dresser. He doesn't dare enter; he doesn't want to overwhelm you. So he stands by the entrance and watch as you take off your earrings, dump it into a container and untie your hair. He watches as you comb through the locks and put on some oil, as you pat down your dress and crawl into bed. He watches intently as you avoid laying on your stomach, you're careful when manoeuvring yourself under the sheets and he watches as you get comfortable and lay on your back with a huff.

Youdon't talk to him, and you turn off the lamp.

He walks, and he switches it back on.

You feel the dip of the mattress and open your eyes.

"Hey." Rindou finally says as he sits by your leg and sigh. You don't feel like talking to him, but you want to look at him -- so you do. You watch him hold the stick in one hand and the other rubs softly on your ankle.

"Can we talk?" You blink tiredly at his request and he moves down to rest his head on your lap. He's peering up at you now, eyes staring so intently into yours that you choose to look at his forehead instead. Somehow it felt a little scary to face his eyes, his intense stare, his pretty purples -- you're afraid you're going to see the same expression being directed at you again, but you see the little frown on forehead and your thumb itches to rub it over his skin.

You stop yourself after being reminded of where it got you both when you didn't leave it alone.

That sparked a small anger in you.

"You told me to shut up, and now you want to talk?" You're starting to feel a little petty, and you know it is passive aggressive -- not a good way to communicate after a fight -- but the anger is starting to take over your emotions and before you can stop it from taking its final form, you push his head away from your thigh gently.

"I'm sorry." Rindou sits back up in one swift motion, face full of his apology and you throw the blanket covering your legs away to the side with a huff. He's never one to apologise.

"Are you?" You scoff a little, "or are you only saying sorry after seeing that?" You jut your chin towards the stick in his hand and he sighs at the realisation of your thoughts, your brain, while furrowing his brows in the process of trying to get you to calm down just a little.

He's majorly fucked up.

"It's nothing like that, fuck." Rindou scoots closer to your body, panic evident in the way he moves and a warm hand covers your cheek. "Please, baby. Shit, it's not that at all." He pleads, thumb running over your eye bags and you close your eyes at it. You're frowning, you're angry, you're upset, you're tired -- it's everything all at once. Lips pouting, nose souring, and when you open your eyes up again you find a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

You feel so sad.

"Rindou." It's a desperate call, and you're sobbing fully now. Just five seconds was all it took for you to break down and cry and he panics a little when wobbly fingers peel his hand away from your skin. All the pent up emotions -- mostly of sadness and anxiety, finally breaking free from its facade and you choose to shuffle into his lap.

He is still in his work clothes, you're already showered and changed into your nightgown, but you don't care. Though he's upset you, all you want to do is to have him hold you and cry. He presses you close immediately and cups both of your cheeks, thumbs swiping away the many tears that follows.

You cry harder at it, because Rindou is the only one who can ever give you this much comfort, and yet he was also the same person who'd taken it away from you with just words and an ugly expression casted your way.

And you're honest when you say it to him.

"Baby, I can't do this if you're only in it for the children."

Rindou's world crumbles around him.

Sweat starts forming on his skin and he feels his cheeks burn stingily from your words. He is absolutely devastated when you said you can't do this -- do what? His breath stutters in his mouth as you sob silently and you cover your palms over your eyes to cover yourself from his. Overflowing tears escapes your hands as it rolls down the sides of your cheeks, and he finally processes your words then.

It's nothing like that.

"Baby," His eyeballs vibrates and blown out pupils flickers back and forth between you and the test kit in his hands. He needs to actually know what you're trying to say -- it can't be what he's thinking, right? He loves you and your daughter too much for anything bad to happen -- he knows he's fucked up. He didn't mean what he said to you earlier.

Please talk to me. Please. Don't stop talking.

"You're only making up to me because I'm pregnant, right? You want the baby. I know you do. All men wants them." You hiss through broken cries and his heart clenches at it -- like a chain filled with thorns and needles tightening around his flesh and it sends such a throbbing pain through his chest; but he knows that what you're feeling right now is ten times worse than that, and it is all because of him -- solely him and his major fuck up where the anger and frustration shouldn't be aimed at you at all. He should've never brought the work home with him -- it's done nothing but stress and weigh on his mind all evening.

"It's nothing like that." Rindou repeats his words and he attempts to kiss your cheek but you turn your head away from him; from the warmth that you crave so eagerly from him.

"How can I know? You were so mean to me earlier, I'm starting to think you don't want me anymore. Husbands don't talk to their wives like that."

You cry, you wail, your heart breaks in your chest even more, and he doesn't think there's anything he can do that can make up for it.

"I'm sorry." He slowly turns your head back to him. "Are you? Or are you only saying sorry just because you want me to stop crying?" You glare at him.

"I'n sorry, baby." Your cheek is to him, and he finally gets to kiss your fat now. One kiss and it's got him placing more and more on your skin. "So sorry." Again and again, as a way to display of his apologies that he's begging to your heart but you shake your head in denial with a pout.

"Men only stay with their wife for kids. They don't love them, they only want children." You spit with an angry sob.

Rindou knows it is your trauma speaking, and he doesn't blame you at all -- he knows the kind of father yours is, the kind of father his was, and hot tears spring to his waterline at the connection. He'd swore to himself to never become the men the two of them were, and now, he seems to be following in their footsteps . . .

Or perhaps Rindou is being a little too rough on himself -- because deep down he knows he is nothing like the men who have left a dark imprint on both your upbringings; that he is so much better than who they were in your lives -- a better man, a better person, a better father. And after releasing your anger it seems you also know that he is nothing like them too. So you cling to his neck and pull him closer to your body while placing wobbly kisses on his jawline as an apology for comparing him to them.

You're nothing like them. I'm sorry.

"I love you." Rindou whispers against your skin. It's heartwarming, the way he dips his head down to press his lips on your throat and squeeze at your hips until you're nothing but a wailing mess.

His heart cracks loudly in his chest. "I'm sorry. I was mean, I'm sorry. Didn't mean it, baby." And Rindou keeps on saying it again and again until your cries finally die down just a little and you start breathing properly again.

So much mucus in your nose and he pulls out a tissue from the nightstand for you to let it all out. It's messy -- your face is wet from tears, snot is still dribbling down your nose as he helps you to wipe them off with another clean sheet of tissue, and your lips are so red and quivery from the cry, the sadness.

There's still a hint of doubt in your eyes when he pulls away to take a good look at you. Rindou tries kissing it away, "love you, Mama." Your bottom lip juts out a little at it and he kisses on it softly, "love you." Rindou says it again and you knock your forehead against his cheekbone. It's a little gesture to show that you've acknowledged it, but you're going to need some time to say it back. Not now -- at least when you're finally okay enough to look him in the eyes again.

And it's when his vacant hand intertwines with your sticky ones that you finally ask him the question you've been wanting to this whole time.

". . . Are we keeping it?"

He's silent for a minute. A puzzled look on his face has fear running through your veins, afraid of what he's going to say.

But Rindou simply blinks down at your panic form instead.

"Why not?" He asks, warm hands running down your back, your neck, your cheek.

Rindou is truly confused by your question.

Relief washes over your body at his reply. You sigh into his chest, ". . . We haven't had plans for another." You state, and he picks away a torn, wet piece of tissue just beneath your eyes.

"Well, it's here." He fiddles with your strap next, fixing it in place. "And we're keeping it . . . right?" He looks at you while he asks it, wanting for your confirmation as well. He needs to be ensured that you want this just as much as he does. He's the one giving them surname, but you're the one giving them life -- a home -- with eyes to open to the world, and touch to feel the universe.

You nod softly at it, albeit a bit hesitant but you feel a little bit better when he soothes a hand down your back to ground you. "I wanna."

Rindou smiles -- it's a little shy, but you're shy too, and he pulls you closer to his chest with a warmth that only you can plant in him.

"Then I'm okay," There's still a cry left in you but you hold it in. "We'll figure it out as we go." He says with a nose to your cheek and you blink away the tears. "'Kiya is here with us too, no?" You nod again and he nods at you. "We'll figure it out together."

It's not perfect -- he knows his apology isn't complete, but he's got you calmed down for now, and you've figured out an answer together. He'll find more ways to make it up to you tomorrow, or at least when you're not as tired as how droopy your eyelids are right now -- you're sleepy and he knows, so he gently helps you to lay on your back carefully and he kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep in an instant with him kissing you every once in a while, and Rindou lays with you just a little bit longer before he finally gets up, off the bed. A small part of him knows it is not the correct way but he wishes that hopefully a warm shower will be able to wash away his guilt . . .

He carefully places the pregnancy test in an envelope, writing down the date and some other details before peeling off a yellow post-it from his desk.

Call Fujita for appointment

Buy mango rice

Rindou slaps it on the fridge. He steps back a little to look at it and eyes the big calendar hanging off the wall.

A few bites at his fingernails, a few more clicks his tongue, he decides to jot down the same things on there too, in the box of tomorrow's date -- he doesn't want to forget it.

He steps back again and his left foot hits a toy.

And all of a sudden Haitani Rindou is 31 again, a nervous first-time parent who'd just found out about your very first pregnancy together. The raw emotions running through his veins as he looks up on research online with shaky hands, as he held your hand while you consulted with your doctor for the very first time, as you both sat on the floor in the bathroom together wondering about the future.

Now, standing in the middle of his kitchen alone as he fidgets with one of Sakiya's toy he'd picked up from the floor, Rindou thinks it is okay despite the little worry about handling two kids now.

You'll figure it out together -- as parents, as a family.

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[coolthingsguyslike]

[miamaimania]

"Staycation Home Collection" by Eric Trine × Will Bryant

[fashionbooksmilano]

Ralph Lauren A Way of Living

Home, Lifestyle, Inspiration

by Ralph Lauren

Rizzoli, New York 2023, 543 pages, 23,5x30,5cm, ISBN 978-0-8478-7214-5

euro 78,00

email if you want to buy booksinprogressmilano@yahoo.it

A stunning celebration of Ralph Lauren’s signature home collections—including the designer’s own homes—which have inspired the world of interior design for nearly half a century. The cinematic vision of Ralph Lauren is brought to life with a stunning and intimately written book that spans decades of innovation and influence by the iconic American designer. Ralph Lauren: A Way of Living, published by Rizzoli New York, commemorates the 40th anniversary of the home collection with the first comprehensive volume dedicated to the signature style of Ralph Lauren and his pioneering lifestyle approach to design. From trailblazing innovations that revolutionized the home industry to conceptualizing residential retailing and perfecting the art of hospitality, Lauren has created a multifaceted world that evokes emotion and inspires a more beautiful way of life. This special volume presents a visual timeline of Ralph Lauren’s remarkable history as a lifestyle innovator. Lauren’s unparalleled ability to seamlessly blend fashion and the home is illustrated with the groundbreaking designs and innovative use of materials that have distinguished the home collection since its inception in 1983: menswear-inspired Oxford Cloth bedding that required the creation of special looms and took two years to refine; the sleek RL-CF1 chair, crafted of carbon fiber and inspired by Lauren’s McLaren F1 racecar; and an appreciation for a timeworn, weathered aesthetic, as exemplified in the iconic Writer’s Chair with its hand-burnished leather and rich patina. Historic achievements such as the opening of his first New York City flagship on Madison Avenue – which invited guests to experience the complete World of Ralph Lauren in a residential environment – and his renowned restaurants that offer the epitome of gracious hospitality, demonstrate the magnitude of Ralph Lauren’s influence on the worlds of lifestyle design and hospitality. The timeline is complete with quotes from distinguished members of the design world and prominent figures of our culture including Oprah Winfrey, Hillary Rodham Clinton, and architecture critic Paul Goldberger. Ralph Lauren’s signature ability to create transportive environments begins with his private homes that inspire his iconic lifestyle collections. Ralph Lauren: A Way of Living offers an in-depth look at all the places Lauren calls home, from a sprawling ranch in Colorado and an island retreat in Jamaica, to a Fifth Avenue penthouse overlooking Manhattan’s Central Park, a seaside home in Montauk and a country estate in Bedford. Lauren’s homes are deeply personal expressions of his vision for living; captivating imagery is complemented by essays and descriptions written in his own words that intimately express the meaning of home and share inspiration and anecdotes for each residence. The photos of Lauren’s captivating homes are followed by a celebration of Ralph Lauren Home’s lifestyle collections – cinematic worlds that are brought to life with iconic imagery showcasing Lauren’s pioneering lifestyle approach and all-encompassing home collection. Ralph Lauren: A Way of Living honors the life and work of a true visionary and innovator. Ralph Lauren’s monumental impact on the way we live is as recognizable today as it was groundbreaking 40 years ago. His vision is not about trends of the moment, but is built upon values and things that last, and his legacy will continue to shape the places we call home.

29/10/24

[oldfarmhouse]

𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

[dogpawsswapgod]

a fav but i'm not saying i recommend it... unless you like doomed voyages and chunky EVA suits... and Cillian Murphy (pls return my calls!)

[feral-ballad]

Zehra Naqvi, from The Knot of My Tongue: Poems and Prose; “Dear Baba”

[Text ID: “maybe we are each other’s homes, maybe that is enough. / maybe we hold each other across oceans and speak tenderness in our broken languages.”]

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

historical drama/sitcom where two gay best friends (woman and man) get lavender married--and proceed to spend the Fancy European Honeymoon their parents paid for acting as each other's wingman

[turntechradiohead]

is anybody going to talk about how noelle’s mom is hellish combination of all the betas kids guardians

[hai7ani]

WHAT'S A HEART WORTH? haitani rindou

nsfw (smut) mdni, nothing happens

home collection | playlist

part i / my baby here on earth, showed me what my heart was worth.

Rindou does not understand why people would not want to go home after work.

Like the accountant who stays at the office long after clock out hour. He's finishing up someone else's paperwork willingly while actively ignoring the constant buzz of his phone that lights up a photo of a woman showing up peace signs paired with a beautiful smile which only says 'girl[space]friend' but not her name. He shuts off his phone and continues his paperwork instead of heading home (and also earning free OT cash that he'll probably just spend on some Asahi during payday) . . .

Or the newlywed who slips off the silver band on his ring finger and greets the receptionist with a bright smile -- Ishikawa-san, or Riko-chan, as he likes to call her -- the moment he steps into the front doors of the office. He enjoys leaning on the counter and telling her about the plans he and his friends have made for her that night on a random morning while stuffing the promise with his wife deep into the pocket of his perfectly ironed suit.

"Work's been rough lately, ya wanna grab a drink? Release some steam? Oh, it's just a few of us guys who are my friends, and you. Bring some of your friends as well, yeah? Please come, treat's on us. We're going to Shangri-La after work, 'kay?"

It's especially the father with a polaroid of his 6 year old son and 11 year old daughter that both are not smiling in tucked away in his wallet who rushes off to an izakaya or some club somewhere in the middle of Kabukichō straight after work with a bunch of his lame and nasty ol' colleagues who are somehow also married men. Just drinking and smoking the night away with dirty minds that think of nothing but sticking their dicks into the pussies of younger, sweeter women working by the bar.

While Haitani Rindou is on his way to clock in to work, he passes by the reception table. Ishikawa-san sees him and gives a small bow with a professional smile, before swiftly returning to the conversation with the newlywed. She bends over the desk and starts fiddling with the bright orange tie hanging off the newlywed's collar. There's a name-tag pinned to his tie that reads Ito Haruki.

Ito-kun, or as Ishikawa-san likes to call him -- Haruki-senpai -- is leaning his head on his left arm, cheek squashed a little as he's shamelessly ogling at the loose button that's about to burst open on Ishikawa-san's blouse.

There's a few people in line ahead of Rindou who are clocking in as well. He supposes it is no harm to listen in on their conversation. They weren't even trying to be discreet about it, anyway.

"It's a nice tie, senpai. Where'd you get it from?"

Rindou catches the sudden change in Ito Haruki's demeanour. "Oh. Just . . . Went out shopping last weekend and got it for myself. Looks real nice, ain't it?"

Liar.

Rindou and you were out shopping two weeks ago when he spots the same man holding the hand of his new bride as they went searching for neckties together in the Aeon department store. "I think this'll look great on you, Haruki, no?" His wife brings the displayed tie up to his neck and smile.

"Looks bomb, honey."

When admiring himself in the mirror, he sees the B&M department's Haitani Rindou looking at him from behind. The two men catches eye in the reflection. Ito-kun was sweating buckets, afraid of getting his cover blown off, but you suddenly tugged on Rindou's sleeve, breaking his attention and asking for his opinion on the dress that you were looking to buy for work.

He turns around and leaves with you, not looking at Ito-kun nor his wife as he pretends like he doesn't know the married couple in the same store shopping for neckties, nor the scandalous, nasty things the husband has been doing at work.

And right now, while he's waiting in line to clock in for work, he's still pretending like he knows nothing. There's no point in saying he knows Ito's lying, anyway. It doesn't benefit him one bit.

But to Ito Haruki, Rindou running his mouth to people and letting everyone find out he's been married this whole time to a woman he does not love . . .

And letting his wife find out he has been openly bringing women and girls to hotel rooms and screwing them with his mates behind her back.

It's a risk he cannot take.

Ito-kun who is now standing tall and straight calls out to Rindou, seemingly trying to butter his colleague up to keep his mouth shut. If he starts getting close with me, there's no way he'll snitch. He'll understand.

"Yo, Haitani. Ya free tonight? We're going up to Shangri-La with a few of my friends in Chiyoda. We're having a few ladies over as well, if yer' interested." Ito-kun wiggles his eyebrows and Ishikawa-san stifles a laugh with the back of her hand.

Rindou does not spare both of them a glance.

"I'm married."

He says it like it's meant to be. He's a married man who's actually a decent human being with bills to pay, love to give and a wife to go home to. You just wouldn't understand. And he moves forward with his hands tucked into his pockets.

"Tch, fuckin' snob. He's married? So am-" Haruki stops himself from running his mouth any further with a cough. "Who does he think he is? Just 'cause he's on the line for some promotion? I can do better than him, can't I, Riko-chan? I'm in HR, after all."

"Of course you can, Haruki-senpai. You're the best, after all . . . At all things."

With their lewd whispering and hushed laughters echoing in the space behind him, he slots his employee card into the machine and thinks of all the married men with a wife and children waiting for them to come home and watch Why Did You Come to Japan? on the TV together.

Haitani Rindou could never understand them.

And perhaps it's just him . . .

Guess it really is just him.

Him who thinks there's nothing more relieving than going straight home to his wife, his family, instead of wasting another second at work talking to idiots he don't share the same interests and can never communicate with.

They disgust him.

Working a 9-5 itself is already tiring, so why choose to cause himself more suffering by willingly spending time with literal failed fucking nutjobs who don't respect their family, or anyone, in that matter. He thinks its rather pointless to be with them when he can be at home with you.

At home.

With you.

At home is kicking off his expensive Jimmy Choo's that you bought for him with your last paycheck by the entrance and throwing his goddamned briefcase on the counter, followed by his car keys (a Mazda) and the resident's keycard.

At home is saying ただいま and seeing your figure still clad in your work clothes and an apron, standing in the kitchen stirring up a boiling pot of his favourite miso soup with curry cooking on the stove beside you. It's nothing misogynistic or anything -- Rindou can cook fairly well himself. There's just an unspoken rule between the two of you where whoever comes home first makes dinner. Both of you are working adults in damned Tokyo with a workplace culture of utter hell and bullshit, so it's not everyday you get to go out for dinner at some fancy restaurant downtown. Plus, there's something about cooking and eating dinner together with him that makes you so happy.

Rindou eyes the mat you're standing on and sighs a breath of relief.

"Baby," you call from the kitchen and he makes his way over to you sluggishly. "Taste." you feed him a spoon of the flavourful soup and he smacks his lips. Once, twice.

". . . Needs a little more salt." He reaches for the sodium and you take one sip yourself, "yeah, 's kinda dull."

You see him shake the salt container a bit before pushing you back behind him and grabbing the spoon in your hand to stir the soup. He makes sure you're still standing on the mat.

"Can you help me add more wakame? Been cravin' it a lot lately." He simply hums and tears open another packaging of the wakame on the countertop and throws it in.

And you simply let him take control, opting to step back and take this moment to watch -- or more like ogle, -- at your husband with the sleeves of his stripped Uniqlo dress-shirt rolled up to his elbows, the back of it messily tucked in his pants, and the gelled hairstyle you combed for him this morning nowhere in sight. You also smell the remains of tobacco on him -- he's been smoking again.

You furrow your brows at your latest observation, though you can't deny it's pretty endearing to see him like this.

Completely, utterly at home. And absolutely yours.

You're also sure now -- that watching him like this definitely makes you happy. Domestic and comfortable.

"Yeah, this tastes better." He turns to cup a palm under your chin and feeds you a spoon of miso. A drop falls onto his palm and he simply wipes it off on a washcloth. You hum, it does taste better. "Thanks, Chef Rin." He finishes off the soup you didn't manage to and throws the spoon in the sink to wash later.

He pinches your nose, pulls you by your neck to get you closer, and places a kiss on the crown of your head before pulling open the fridge. It's also one of his ways of saying he's home other than the usual greeting of ただいま.

You giddily lean against the kitchen island, untying the apron and laying it beside you. A pout suddenly forms at your lips and you blow raspberries while slowly unbuttoning the top of your dress, finally able to catch a break and get rid of the uncomfortable clothing.

Rindou looks back at you from your reaction and you tell without him asking.

"My clothes' gettin' tight. Hate it so much."

"We'll go shopping this weekend."

You nod, and he turns back to the fridge, though from the corner of your eye you see that he's been bowing down and staring at the shelves a little too long.

"Wha-"

"Where'd my KitKat go?"

Your fingers pause in their actions.

It's kinda funny how a simple question of your husband suspecting the whereabouts of his chocolate snack bar can make your mind travel to two nights back. It was on Monday at 2:41am when you'd snuck out of bed (out of his arms), and stole his last remaining KitKat in the fridge.

Rindou looks at you and you look back at him.

"Dunno."

Thief.

" . . . I wonder where's the Buenos I bought-"

Not the Buenos.

And suddenly you find yourself clinging for dear life onto your husband, with the best puppy eyes you can muster glossily looking up at him as if you're secretly trying to convey a message, to which he only scoffs at and starts peeling your arms off him.

"Baby, baby. Anythin' but the Buenos. They're mine."

"So was my KitKat."

"You can't blame me! It just looked so delicious I had to absolutely devour it-"

"-the damn Buenos are mine now."

"No."

.

.

.

You spend the next 20 minutes bickering with him about who holds final custody over the bag of mini Buenos sitting in the fridge. He reasons that because you ate his kitkat, and he was also the one who bought the Buenos for you, that he gets to keep it now. You argue that the fucking KitKat was hypnotising you into eating it, resulting in him losing his last KitKat bar because of the KitKat itself, and not because of you, that you get to keep your Buenos that he bought for you all to yourself and he gets nothing in compensation.

You both end up fucking in the bathtub afterwards.

"You're too noisy."

Gasp. Moan. Whimper.

"So are you."

Scratch. Squeeze. Bite.

Rindou is gentle when he holds you as you slowly regain your senses and shift to a more comfortable position. His dick is soft against your thigh and you help him wash off the sticky fluid.

You feel him growing hard again in your hand as he presses a kiss to your cheek and you curl the other arm around his neck.

He helps you align yourself with him and there's a soft blush on your cheeks when he bottoms out, "doc' said it's good, right?" "Yeah."

Yup, Doctor Fujita’s words is absolutely the reason why you’re spending the next hour making love with your husband in the bathtub.

(You just love him so much.)

It's later that night, after you've both finished your little session in the shower and dinner when Rindou brings up a topic neither of you have ever discussed about in the whole three years of your marriage.

He slaps your thigh, telling you to scoot over on the couch and immediately drops down next to you (or more like on top of you) when all you've made was just about a centimetre of space for him. A literal half of his body is on top of your legs, crushing down your thighs and you bite his bulky bicep in retaliation with a quiet asshole coming out of your mouth, trying your hardest to crawl your way out under his heavy, muscular body (that was an overstatement -- he just got back up and waited for you to move over so he could sit down properly). He hisses while rubbing the area you bit and simply stares at you in amusement.

Though annoying, he's careful with your body. He's made sure not to be rough with you and his orbs scans over your form to make sure you're not actually in pain.

You lift your legs up to rest in his lap and he moves his hands to massage your feet. You've been complaining about having feet pain lately, and it's probably one of the many side effects. He makes it a mental note to do research on it and how to help you feel better.

When he sees that you're sitting comfortably and back to focusing on the show playing on the TV screen again, he decides to fire the shot.

"I'm gonna quit my job." Rindou bluntly states.

All that shit in his mundane ass voice too: the one he uses when he's still an immature, younger and grouchier version of himself, fighting with opponents that don't impress him.

You hurriedly press pause on the remote to the show you're currently watching,

How to Get Away with Murder.

and you stare at him blankly.

You might start taking actual notes from Annalise Keating-san, you think.

"What?" You try retracting your legs away from him but his grip is tight as he continues massaging your ankle. You're not in the mood anymore, but it feels comfortable, so you leave them there.

"I'ma quit my job." Rindou closes his eyes and rests his head back on the soft beneath.

"Why?"

"One, 'm sick of it. Two, 's not what I like. Three, my boss' an asshole . . . So I'm quitting."

"And what will you do afterwards?"

"Gonna stay home."

"And?"

"Tsk. What? I've made 'nuff to support us for at least, what, like 20 years. Les' jus' stay home, smoke weed, I'll maybe start to DJ again. Or if you don't wanna, fine. We'll jus' book a one way to Switzerland or like, I don't know, fucking Canada or something and never come back. Heard from a few of the guys in my department 's cheap living there. And there's Singapore too, which is family friendly, I might look into it. What do you think?"

A beat.

And another.

The both of you break into a fit of laughter and you don't stop after . . . three minutes, to be exact.

It's unrealistic for an average salaryman in this economy to be earning an income enough to support his family for 20 years after without a job. Even 10 years is over-exaggerating. It's even more unrealistic that it's happening in Tokyo. In Rindou's case, an average Japanese salaryman who works in a position in his company which handles business and marketing. What made you laugh even harder is the fact Rindou had just brought up three major, rich and expensive countries in the world as cheap places to live in as a family.

The guy you married deserves a beating right now. Maybe another bite, too. This time at the shoulder. Who knows?

You crawl into his lap and squint your eyes, "you sound like you're asking to be single right now. Weed? With me right now? You're definitely asking for it."

"Was jus' jokin', baby. Never doin' that again. Don't divorce me."

"Thought your stupid ass could fool me? Thought you were still 18? You're not funny. You're quitting an office job in this economy, and you're- you're tellin' me, to stay home with you 'n," you pause to laugh, "'n to smoke weed 'n DJ with your ass."

He lands his palms on your hips and rubs up and down affectionately, "’Think I'm funny? At least I think I am," His thumbs subconsciously move to your stomach and traces soft circles on the skin.

"You are. Kinda." You comb through his soft hair with your fingers and push them back. He's smirking now. "Was not lyin' when I said I hate my fuckin' job. Guess I could turn to stand-up comedy if smoking weed and being an at-home DJ doesn't work out."

"I'll kill you."

Rindou brings out another fit of giggles in you and when it slowly dies down, you gaze into his purple orbs with a soft smile.

You cup both hands on his cheeks, "don't smoke so much, baby." You peck his lips twice before moving to smooch his cheeks. "'S bad for me."

"Yeah, sorry. Couldn't help it." Rindou blinks tiredly at your form and wraps you in his arms, his head moving down lower to rest on your chest, placing soft kisses at the tender, soft mounds. He suddenly remembers you've also been complaining about having some breast changes too. He's gotta bring that up to Fujita-san in the next visit, along with your feet issue.

“When’s your next appointment with Fujita again?”

“This Friday at 3. I’m taking the half day off to go, are you coming?”

Rindou is silent as he goes over his schedule for Friday in his head and- Fuck. He’s got an important meeting at 2 that doesn’t end till 4.

“I don’t think I can make it.” You hum softly, “it’s okay. I’ll call you.” Your fingers move to tangle themselves in his purple locks.

“I’ll try to come after I finish my meeting, so remember to tell her about your feet. That could be serious. Your breasts too.” “Okay.”

Rindou stares at your growing stomach, and relishes in how you've been getting more and more pretty each day with the love of you two combined and forming within you. (You've always been pretty. Just extra pretty when you're pregnant with his baby.)

You're aware of how he's been getting stressed out lately. Workload's been piling up, and with the current ongoing promotion offer that he's been nominated for, you know Rindou's just had to work extra harder, put in a little more effort. After all, a promotion in his company is no joke, whether it's a shit company or not. A huge incentive in his salary that can cover a lot more things like saving up for your baby's future education, some personal savings, emergency funds, and being able to invest in safer furnitures in the house to protect you -- his pregnant wife, and soon, the baby. He'll also get more authority in his company, which can lead to having more connections that will ultimately help him create more opportunities in life.

Your husband is a hard-worker. Not so much in his teenage years, perhaps, but he definitely is one now in the present, and you know he can never pass up an opportunity for a raise. After all, things are getting expensive, and raising a child with you in this city isn't anywhere near cheap.

He's past that life, he once swore to you. All the fighting and the drinking and the clubbing; behind alleyways and high up in the skyscrapers where he and Ran would be busy blowing his fathers' money off back in his city, the 2000s Roppongi with many people that he never contacts anymore. Not even Shion, but you know Rindou misses him a lot. They were best friends after all. You've watched them both grow up together from boys to men since you were kids.

"Rindou?" He hums. You press your thumb into a sore spot on his shoulder that he never told you about and you feel him relaxing under your touch.

"Les' go somewhere together, when you're done with your promotion. I'll jus' get some time off sayin' I'm too pregnant, or somethin'. They'll understand. Unlike you, the people at work actually likes me." You suggest, and he pinches your thigh. "You gettin' smug?" "Kinda."

Rindou laughs into your neck. "Yeah, 'kay. Where you wanna go?"

"'Was thinkin' of Hokkaido. I've never been there before," your pointer finger traces random twirly shapes onto his bare back. "Oh, maybe you could take me to Taiwan. One of the girls at work went with her hubby once 'n she said 's real nice there. Please, baby."

"But international flights are expensive right now. You sure you wanna go overseas?"

Crystals start to form at the corners of your eyes and your nose is getting red. "Really wanna go."

This pregnancy is gonna turn him into a saint. "'Kay, babe. Taiwan it is. We'll go to Taiwan, yeah? Don't cry." He kisses your lips. And he does it again and again until you stop sniffling. He wipes away your tears, too. And he pulls back to look at you. All pouty and gorgeous in his arms.

Haitani Rindou sits in the living room with his pregnant wife on his lap rambling his ear off about the cool things one of the girls at work saw in Taipei and he's left dumbfounded because . . .

The men at work? They're never going to experience this kind of life. The domesticity with you. The soft kisses shared before you fall asleep together in bed. The kisses placed on your belly when the baby's kicking a little too hard and you can't sleep. And soon he's going to feel a new type of warmth blossoming in his chest where he comes home after getting asked to go to fucking Shangri-La again, and sees you feeding your baby milk on the couch, waiting for him. Excited to share a new story about what happened with you and your baby earlier.

"She just said her first word, Rin." "What?" "C'mon, say it for your papa, now." The baby wiggles around in her mother's arms and looks at her father, who is now hovering over her and has a warm hand placed on the back of her head. She blinks, and smiles. "Ba-ba."

And suddenly he feels like the happiest man alive.

"Thank you."

reblogs are appreciated! thank you for reading ≽ܫ≼

[macrolit]

Personal library of Richard A. Macksey, retired professor of humanities at Johns Hopkins University.

[rookanisstuff]

coming home

[soupsail]

Hey ladies and germs i present a new awesome sauce artwork your truly, liv😼🫶

tumblr image quality is SO bad omg BEAR WITH ME GUYS just……maybe tap on the photo and the quality shalt improve🙈

[homecollection123]

Home Collection: Your Premier Destination for Upholstery Fabric Sofas in Delhi

Are you in search of the ideal Upholstery Fabric for your Sofa to elevate the comfort and style of your living space? Look no further than Home Collection, Delhi's leading home decoration store. Renowned for its exquisite furniture range, Home Collection stands out as the ultimate destination for those seeking the finest upholstery sofas in the city.

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Why Choose Home Collection?

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Selecting the right Upholstery Sofa can be overwhelming, but not at Home Collection. The store offers expert consultation services to guide you through the selection process. Their knowledgeable staff will assist you in choosing the perfect sofa that aligns with your preferences, ensuring a seamless and enjoyable shopping experience.

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https://www.homecollection.co.in/upholstery-sofa-fabric/

[toyastales]

Art Deco perfume bottle by Turriet & Bardach, made in Czechia circa 1930.