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By the time we finish the food I am stuffed and unable to move. I wipe my hand and rub my belly affectionately. Thinking how my little one is gradually making mummy a glutton, I sigh in satisfaction. My husband doesn't waste time to clear out the table. If there's one thing I noticed about him it's that most times he doesn't let his staff do everything for him, like now, he could have called someone to do this but it's not his style he would rather do it himself.

" Are you ready to go home?". He asks me once he's done with clearing the table

"Give me a minute, I don't think I can move, I ate a lot". This makes him laugh, a genuine laughter.

"Do you want me to carry you?".

"No". I blurted out almost screaming with horror on my face. This only initiates his laughter again.

He walks away from me to his desk, he rests casually on it and begins to type away on his phone. I shut my eyes trying to relax and gain some strength when my phone beeps notifying me of a message. When I bring it