Neither of them spoke as they got into the car. Charles Chase slid into the driver’s seat and began to drive.
Mia Moore angrily buckled her seatbelt herself, cradling her belly as she gazed out the window. She’d already asked Song Ying about it—Charles Chase seemed excessively nervous about her.
Song Ying had told her that sometimes, when the baby’s about to be born, dads get anxious too. Pre-birth anxiety isn’t just for moms; dads feel it as well.
But still, she was frustrated. Charles Chase was hovering over her every day, making her feel like she couldn’t eat anything, touch anything—she felt totally powerless.
Maybe Charles Chase loved the baby more than her now. Hmph.
It wasn’t dinnertime yet when they got home. Mia Moore went straight to her room.
He followed behind, glanced at her, and forced himself to look away. She was sulking, and he was angry too.
She’d just been complaining about a stomachache last night, and today she dared to eat who-knows-what. Apparently, only he cared.
Still, even with those thoughts, he gave instructions to the housekeeper to make Mia Moore’s favorite dishes for dinner. Mala rice noodles were off-limits, but maybe a bowl of pickled fish would do.
With a sigh, he heated up some milk and carried it upstairs.
Inside the room, Mia Moore pulled out some loungewear from the closet, about to change.
She went into the bathroom to wash her face. Since becoming pregnant, she rarely left the house. Today was a rare time she’d put on makeup.
Looking at her bare face in the mirror, she rubbed her now-round belly.
Compared to before, she really didn’t look good at all.
Mia Moore pressed her lips together, tears shimmering in her eyes. Sniffling, she sat down on the small chair.
Charles Chase had placed that little chair by the sink so she wouldn’t get tired.
How could she not feel wronged? Even if her pregnancy symptoms weren’t severe, carrying such a big belly was uncomfortable.
At night her waist ached, she constantly needed the bathroom, and there was so much she couldn’t eat or play with.
She’d always been carefree and unrestrained, but now every day felt like walking on eggshells. She knew Charles Chase was just trying to protect her.
But that only made her feel even worse. She couldn’t even get mad at him, or she’d seem childish.
This was their first time being parents—neither of them was really prepared, so they overcompensated, worrying about everything.
Mia Moore hugged her belly, clutching her loungewear. Even something as simple as bending over to change her pants was a struggle.
Her big eyes blinked once, and then tears started falling one by one. The more she thought, the more aggrieved she felt, until she buried her face in her hands, crying softly.
The door swung open; Charles Chase came in with the milk. Not seeing her in the room, he noticed the bathroom light on, so he set the milk down on the table and sighed.
He took a few steps closer, hesitated, and was about to knock when he heard the faint sound of crying.
His heart tightened at once. "Baby, is something wrong?"
The door wouldn’t turn, so he hurried to fetch the spare key from the drawer.
As the door swung open, he saw Mia Moore sitting on the chair, hugging her belly, tears streaming down her little face—completely, utterly miserable. He bit his tongue hard, wishing he could slap himself stupid.
How did he let himself get angry at her?
Charles Chase crouched down in front of her, heart aching to see her cry. “Baby, are you feeling unwell?”
He was more worried she might be physically uncomfortable.
Mia Moore wiped her tears, pushed him away, and got up to leave, her brows furrowed in annoyance. He instantly followed.
She said nothing, didn’t bother to change her clothes, just held her belly and slipped beneath the covers, turning her back to him.
Charles Chase realized he’d made her upset. He gently patted the blanket, bending over to coax her.
"I’m sorry, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have ignored you."
"Baby, don’t be like this, okay?"
"I’m sorry, Yao Yao—my love."
She hid under the blanket, so he carefully pulled it away. The usual playful twinkle in his eyes was replaced by nothing but worry and heartache.
Seeing no resistance, he leaned down and gently kissed her hair. "Baby, if you’re mad at me, just yell. Don’t bottle it up and stay silent."
He walked around to the other side of the bed and saw her eyes swollen, silently shedding tears.
He climbed onto the bed, drawing her into his arms. He’d never seen her look so wronged.
"It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have made our Yao Yao upset. I was terrible."
"You only had a little milk tea—I should have learned to make it myself so you could drink it whenever you want."
"Please don’t cry, baby."
"Don’t cry, okay?"
His long fingers gently wiped away her tears, then lowered his head to kiss her tenderly.
Mia Moore cried even harder now. With someone gently comforting her, she only felt more overwhelmed.
"Chen—Charles Chase, I’m so tired. I must not be a good mom," she choked, shaking her head.
"I just want to be happy, and I never think about the baby. I forget so often that I’m about to become a mom."
"Will you stop loving me? Am I too willful, too immature?" She whimpered, hand resting on her restless belly, trying to calm the baby inside.
Charles Chase sighed quietly, tucking a hand beneath her head so she could get comfortable. “Yao Yao, you’re doing great. You work so hard every day for our baby—you talk to them, you walk just like the doctor said. I’m the one not doing enough.”
"I told you it was okay to have some of the things you like, then wouldn’t let you have them. I was overprotective. Can you forgive me, baby?"
He sounded so sincere, removing his glasses and casting them aside, gazing at her with tender eyes.
"That’s not true. You’d be perfect if you just eased up a little," Mia Moore retorted softly, pouting.
Seeing her finally willing to talk, Charles Chase let out a breath of relief. "Alright, tomorrow I’ll learn how to make milk tea and make it for you myself."
Mia Moore couldn’t help but laugh through her tears. “I bet whatever you make won’t taste good. Remember that strawberry cake last time?”
"..."
"Shhh, I promise, this time I’ll get it right."
He kissed her again, meeting her gaze. "Next time, just tell me what you want. I swear, I’ll never sulk again, and you’re not allowed to cry alone, okay?"
"Fine. But if I cry out in the open, it’s so embarrassing."
"It’s not embarrassing. I shouldn’t have made you cry. Come on, let’s get up—I made pickled fish for you."
Mia Moore’s eyes instantly brightened. “Pickled fish? Yay! Um, help me up.”
"Alright, alright, let’s get you changed."
Once she was dressed, Charles Chase finally led his tearful, adorable little rabbit—downstairs.
After her good cry, Mia Moore quickly forgot about her earlier sadness and, with the pickled fish, polished off two bowls of rice.