"Dear wife." I pause to allow the laughter bubbling in my throat to spill out. Throwing a glance at Brandon sitting ramrod straight, nails digging into the steering wheel while we wait for the light to turn green, I chuckle. He is too stiff. "This is so formal," I say and he mutters an inaudible reply. My hand moves to his shoulder. "Relax, it's just a letter."

"Is it?"

That didn't come out the way intended but I nod. My eyes return to the sheet of paper in my hand, settle on the font in black ink. I would have loved it handwritten but the line at the top right corner shows he printed it from his email. The date on top tells me it is about a month old. I clear my throat to continue reading out loud and my voice breaks.

"I miss you. Everyday." There is a fluttering in my chest like butterflies are rousing from their nap, I don't look to him when I murmur, "Then why didn't you call or text me?"

"Pretend I'm not here, yeah?"

Giggles escape me, I tsk. We already had this argument but there is no way I am reading quietly, I love seeing that pink colour stain his cheek each time a word departs my lips. Lowering my backrest, I relax in my seat, make sure my voice is louder than before.

The light turns green, our car glides forward. "I receive your emails and texts. They are the highlights of my day, I find myself rereading them. I want to call you, I want to sleep and wake to the sound of your voice. I want to tell you every little thing that happens in my day. About the one time someone put sugar in my coffee and all I could hear was you telling me to drink it up. It wasn't bad but I will always love my coffee black and bitter."

Laughter rumbles in my belly, I shake my head, biting the inside of my lips to stop from commenting on his heated cheeks. That can never be me, I love sugar. "I want to tell you about the women who flirt with me because I know this part will irk you. Did this make you smile?" I giggle. "I like it when you are jealous but don't worry, I don't flirt back."

Good for him. My gaze wanders to that last sentence, I scoff. I am not even that jealous, I just don't like him being around other ladies, especially those pretty Paris women. Any sane female will share in my sentiments. I trust him but not them. He belongs to me.

"Each time I find myself typing a reply to you, that image comes back to haunt me, the kiss, I remember it. My nights are cut short because of this, I can't forget it, El." My chest tightens as I read out this part, a tear slides down my cheek and I sniff. Brandon's hand comes to my leg, he gives me a reassuring squeeze. "I know you were caught off guard. I know you never meant for it to happen. But it doesn't stop these thoughts from trying to suffocate me. I know he likes you, why won't he? What man in his right senses won't?"

My voice quivers, I manage to laugh. "A big part of me fears you will wake one day and decide you no longer want me." I squeeze his hand on my leg, kiss his knuckles. That can never happen, I will always want my baby and that's what I tell him without mincing words. I love this man. "What if you no longer want to be a part of this marriage? I give you hell, I am awful. What if you wake one day and realise Joshua is the best man for you? You trust him well enough already. You share a history, he was your boyfriend."

"A pretend boyfriend," I correct with an eye roll. My upper body twists in his direction, he focuses on the road but his cheek has a red hue. "You were jealous." The muscle in his jaw ticks, I say in a sing-song voice, "Brandon was jealous. My baby was jealous."

The car grows quiet for a few minutes after my playful outburst, Brandon takes a turn by the right, the clinic we are headed to comes into view. No one speaks until he finds a parking spot, I hand the letter to him. As hard as I try to mimic his voice, it doesn't sound or feel the same. There are two paragraphs left, I want him to read them to me.

Brandon eyes the letter without taking it, I purse my lips. "Read for me, baby." Jutting my lip, I blink and say, "Pretty please. I will let you kiss me all the time." He pouts, I tug on his lips harshly until his hand wraps around my wrist. Sparks dance on my fingertips as his tongue darts out to wet them. "Okay. What if I promise to buy you chocolates?"

His eyebrow shoots up but he doesn't mention the damage I did to his chocolate stash and my lips split into a grin. Bopping my nose, he palms my face and my eyes close. Unfastening my seatbelt, I do the same for him, stretching my hands for him to carry me.

On his laps, I twirl his black tie around my index finger. I knotted it. Plastering the letter on his chest, I muster my best imitation of a stern gaze when he hesitates to collect it.

"Do you know you are my first kiss? I can't believe I am telling you this," Brandon says when he picks the letter and my eyes round to saucers. I start shaking my head. No way.

"Lies."

I peer at his face and the sincerity in his eyes has my jaw slacking. "For real?" He nods. "For real?" I ask in a louder voice. "How come?" Instead of replying, he coughs and his eyes lower to the paper. I snatch it from him, he pulls my ear and I yelp in fake agony.

"Tell me." He pouts, shaking his head and I frown. "I want to know. Tell your wife."

"We are keeping the doctor waiting," he says.

"He can wait a few more minutes. Tell me."

Running his fingers through his hair, he sighs.

"There's nothing to tell, some of us don't kiss the women we sleep with." I shudder. My face scrunches, I don't understand and I tell him that. "You are so naive," he says with a loving gaze and I frown. Why will anyone have sex with a person they will never kiss? "Sex in my world is-was different. Kisses are not a necessity for good sex." My head swells with this news, that can't be me, I can't imagine our sex life without lots of kisses.

I love his lips.

"So...you're my first kiss."

Hearing him admit this fills me with inexplicable joy and a need for him to feel the same, I say with my arms sliding around his neck, "And you are my first husband." We erupt in laughter, I touch my nose to his. "I love you." He flashes me a grin. "But you're not done reading."

Emotions flood me as the reading progresses, I giggle, tear up and smack his head in between. I can never get enough of him. "Cheers to one month," he says. "The end."

For a while, all I do is stare. At the car parked opposite us, the mother pushing a stroller. Brandon drops the letter on my seat, then it clicks. I remember what I forgot yesterday.

A strong feeling of guilt surrounds me, I sniff. "Are you ready?" His voice is a physical caress, his hand on my waist an embrace and my head bobs. But none of us moves.

"We were two months old yesterday," I say while avoiding his gaze. "You remembered but you didn't say anything." This time I turn to him with a frown on my lips. "Why?"

The naughty man laughs. I scoff. This is my best poker face and he's laughing. Letting out a long hiss, I fold my arms on my chest and shrug off his arm around my shoulders.

"I didn't think." He sighs. "I thought you...I don't know." It's my fault too, I should have read the letters yesterday. "Since you didn't say anything, I thought you were still upset about the last one. I didn't reply so it made sense for you to keep mute on this one." Another second passes, he adds in a smaller voice, "It hurt my feelings though. I was a bit disappointed."

Shaking from the sudden anger that rises within me, I ask, "Why? You didn't think my feelings were hurt when you did the same?" I unlock the door, a click follows. I don't think I like open Brandon so much. "Open the door, we are keeping the doctor waiting."

"Let him wait, we are not done talking." His hand comes under my jaw but I don't want to look at his face. I think I am over it but all it takes is one mention of our anniversary to unleash those terrible memories. How dare him? Maybe I haven't fully forgiven him.

Blinking fast to keep my eyes dry, I mutter, "I don't want to talk to you."

An involuntary moan escapes me as he massages my shoulders, my head falls back. I hate this body of mine, so weak and ready to succumb to him. If I want to, I can move away, sadly, I don't want to. Staying so close to him brings me unexplainable comfort.

"Do you want to talk to me now?"

The cool AC air blows against my skin, I roll my sleeves to my elbow. My thoughts drift to many places, my mind races with questions and my chest deflates. Running my fingers through my hair, a low groan escapes me when I can't reach my scalp. I need to take this goddamn wig off. I will. As soon as we are done with the doctor's appointment.

"Why didn't you reply?" I release a shaky breath, close my eyes. "You could have sent this letter but you left it in your draft. Why are you giving it to me now? What changed?"

Life has been different since his return. I love this version of him but I need to know the changing factor so I am aware of who or what to contact should things go south again.

"I don't know." He sighs, keeping his hands to himself like he knows I require the lack of body contact to think straight. "I really don't. I was upset with you, at myself. I didn't know what to say. I kept telling myself I would send you a message as soon as I cooled off and when I eventually did, two weeks had gone by and I didn't know how to reach out to you. The guilt was eating me up but all I want now is to be the best husband to you...if you will let me."

* * *

Thirty minutes, he said. I will be back in thirty minutes. But it feels like hours. Long painful hours of waiting for the doctor to return with the result of the blood test. Much to Brandon's annoyance, I resume pacing and he sighs, patting the space beside him. But I ignore him. It's so easy for him to sit still and act okay but everything is not.

Another wistful peek at my phone, the door he walked into some minutes ago, I groan and run my hands over my face. There is no baby, I am just paranoid. Am I? He also explained spotting. Oh, God. The mood swings, lack of appetite and nausea. I shake my head and whimper, those could have been symptoms of another sickness. Yes, sickness.

The corridor is empty, save for us. Benches line the walls, I saunter to the door. Minutes pass, I hear Brandon calling out to me, my legs carry me back to him and I offer a smile.

Squatting between his legs, I sigh, his head lowers so our foreheads touch briefly and he cups my cheeks. I palm his knees, his hand slides to the back of my head and he litters kisses on my jaw. My knees meet the ground, I let out a soft moan and part my lips for more open-mouthed kisses. Brandon pulls away to bop my nose and smile, I pout.

"Stop overthinking it, okay?" he says. I nod but waves of thoughts swim in, fear takes a front-row seat in my mind. Brushing my lips with the pad of his thumb, he smiles and brings my hand to his lips, scattering kisses all over my knuckles. "You will be fine."

Anxious due to the questions niggling me, I gulp. We already discussed this but I find myself asking, "What happens if I'm pregnant?" I need another assurance. A promise.

His gaze doesn't leave mine. "I don't know."

Okay, honesty is a great sign, right? We will be fine. It's just a baby. "You cannot change," I hear myself saying. He squeezes my hands as if to say he will not, hope blossoms in my heart and I nod. "I don't want you to change because of it. You cannot hate me for it."

He laughs. "I won't and please give me more credit." I manage to laugh, he flicks a finger over my nose and his gaze becomes intense. "Elna, I can't hate you for something we both made but I can and will be better for you and the baby, okay?" My eyes water, his thumb brushes the under of my eyes, catching the tears before they roll down my cheek and I release a deep, shaky breath. "We will figure it out together. Stop worrying. Smile."

"Okay," I say with a smile, thankful to have him. "Okay." He places a kiss on my forehead, I stand and resume pacing. Other thoughts plague my mind, I don't have all the answers.

Brandon's footsteps echo, I pause as the distance between us closes, plastering a smile to keep the worry glaring in his eyes at bay. "This is stressing you and I don't like it," he says and goes behind to massage my shoulders. "Take a deep breath, don't think." I let out a sigh and make to face him but he says in a disapproving tone, "Stop overthinking."

The massage works. For a brief moment, I allow myself to relax. Feel his hands moving on my shoulders, loosening the knots in my joints. "Baby, I'm scared, okay? I'm scared."

I yelp when he carries me bridal style to the bench, hiding my face in his chest. "Don't be scared. We are in this together." I lift my head, he gives me a pointed look. "Don't be."

"It's not about you now," I say. My head falls back, I catch the upturned view of a figure retreating from us. Propping my head with his hand, he frowns and I return my gaze to his chest. "It is about me. My future. School. A lot will change." His head bobs. "The semester just started, I don't want to attend classes with a baby bump."

Burying his nose in my hair, he inhales. "You say it like it's a bad thing."

Disappointment laces his words but I need to get this off my chest. Our whole life will change. With the addition of a baby, our feelings have to come second, decisions made for three because whatever we do will affect the little one. I doubt we are ready for that, I know I am not, we barely have our shit together as a couple, we don't need an extra now.

"It's not a bad thing, it's an awful thing," I say and wish immediately I didn't. He stops. He freezes. "I was joking," I add with a forced laugh, then scream out, "I'm not ready to be a mother. What if I fuck it up? I'm still a child myself. How old am I? I don't want this."

Brandon recovers quickly, he hides his hurt behind a small smile, running his hand over my legs. "You don't know for sure you are pregnant," he starts in that soft voice that makes me want to believe him. I stick my tongue out. "Let's wait for the doctor, okay?"

Shaking my head like a child refused her favourite toy, I pout. "He's taking too long."

The smile that splits his face has me sitting up and grinning sheepishly. His hand on my waist steadies me, his lips press to my cheek. "He has only been there for ten minutes."

Oh.

Hiding my face in my palms, he tickles me until I wheeze with laughter and I am forced to hold his hands above his head. "Do you want to have sex?" he asks, brows wiggling.

My hands drop, I almost fall off his laps in my excitement to view his face. "What?"

"Do you want to have sex?"

The surprise wears off fast, replaced by a thrill of anticipation and my head bobs. From my peripheral view, I note the empty corridor and a regretful moan escape me at the sight of my jeans. I throw one leg over him, place a kiss below his ear, down to his neck.

His eyes blaze with mischief, I sink my teeth into my lip when his hands sneak under my shirt. His fingertips brush my stomach, he sticks a finger into my belly button. I hold my breath when his hand nears my breasts, his fingers skim my nipples and I let out a cry.

"This is not sex," I say when he lowers his hand. He won't even touch my breasts.

With an arrogant smirk, he replies, "No, it's not. It's a distraction from your thoughts."

Slapping his chest, I say, "Bad husband." I pinch his cheek, he retaliates by pinching my nipple through my shirt and I moan in pain and pleasure. "Brandon is a bad husband."

"Elna is a naughty wife." I open my mouth but my comeback is swallowed. His tongue assaults my mouth, touching and tasting every corner. Heat roars through me, I press my lips harder to his and he takes the hint to deepen the kiss while pinching my nipple.

His hands lower to my back, he spanks my ass. Unzipping my jeans to reveal a glimpse of my red thong, he tugs on my nipple straining against my shirt. My senses heighten, I feel his touch ten times more, the dizzying friction made by his fingers rubbing against my panties. I gasp when he hits the right spot, forcing him to swallow my moans.

Breaking off from the punishing kiss for us to catch our breaths, he offers me a wicked grin, sticks his fingers into my mouth for me to have a taste of myself. I don't protest when he adjusts my clothes and presses a kiss to the corner of my lips. My head lowers to the crook of his neck, he rubs circles on my lower back and a content sigh leaves me.

One tap on my shoulder causes me to lift my gaze to Brandon, he motions to the person beside us, I grimace. The doctor. How did I miss him? I peck his nose when he continues staring at me. My legs tighten around his waist when he stands, I try to focus on the feel of his arms around me rather than the fears and worries trying to invade my mind.

"Put me down," I whisper when we are in the office. He hesitates, my heart flutters.

The doctor is all smiles, Brandon's hand falls to my leg, I place mine on top and he laces our fingers. On the desk is the result, I lick my lips, keeping my gaze on the back of his Hp laptop. He starts talking, my heart sinks to my belly and everything blurs. What?