The third trimester was uncomfortable.
Lina was huge. Everything hurt—her back, her feet, her hips. She couldn't sleep, couldn't get comfortable, couldn't do much of anything without getting winded.
Kai waited on her hand and foot.
"You don't have to do everything," she protested as he brought her yet another glass of water.
"I want to. You're growing our daughter. The least I can do is bring you snacks."
"You're too good to me."
"Impossible."
The kicks grew stronger.
Sometimes Hope would get hiccups, tiny rhythmic movements that made Lina laugh. Kai would press his hand to her belly and smile.
"She's practicing," he said. "Getting ready for the outside world."
"What if we're not ready?"
"No one's ready for a baby. That's the thing. You just... do it. Learn as you go."
Lina nodded slowly. "Together?"
"Together."
At thirty-eight weeks, Lina stopped working.
Her editor understood. Her fans sent messages of support. She spent her days resting, walking slowly around the neighborhood, preparing for what was coming.
Kai worked from home, never leaving her alone for long.
"What if she comes while you're in the shower?" Lina asked.
"Then you'll call me. I'll be wet but present."
"What if she comes at night?"
"Then we'll go to the hospital. Together."
"What if—"
"Lina." He took her hands. "Whatever happens, I'll be right there. The whole time. Not leaving your side."
She exhaled. "I know. I'm just nervous."
"Me too. But we've got this."