I stood in the bathroom, holding the pregnancy test in my hand. Two clear lines—our family would soon welcome a new member. Ethan and I had always hoped to give Leo a brother or sister, but I hadn’t expected it to happen so quickly.

I gazed at myself in the mirror, my cheeks slightly flushed with excitement, joy sparkling in my eyes. My fingers gently brushed over my abdomen, where there was no visible change yet, but a new life was already growing. I decided to keep it a secret for now, planning a special way to tell Ethan.


However, Leo’s recent behavior confused me—sometimes he was overly clingy, tightly hugging my legs while I cooked, his eyes filled with anxiety; other times he was inexplicably distant, refusing my goodnight kisses and shutting himself in his room. One day after school, he refused to play baseball with Ethan, which was extremely unusual. Ethan stood in the backyard, bat in hand, looking confused and hurt, while Leo just kept his head down, kicking at small pebbles on the ground.

“You’ll have a new baby soon anyway, and won’t have time for me anymore,” he said quietly.

I looked at him in shock: “Leo, how did you know…?”


I crouched down in shock to meet his eyes, seeing tears glistening in his green eyes. “Leo, how did you know…?”

His little hands were clenched into fists, his lips trembling slightly. “I heard you talking to Aunt Sophie. You said you felt sick and tired, just like when you were carrying me.” He looked up, his eyes full of fear. “When the new baby comes, will you still love me?”


My heart was instantly struck. I hugged him tightly, feeling his small body trembling slightly in my arms. “Oh, baby,” I said softly, “we will always love you, with or without a new baby. You will always be our first miracle, our little prince.”

It turned out he had accidentally overheard Sophie and me discussing early pregnancy symptoms. My little boy was more sensitive and observant than I had imagined. That night, Ethan and I sat by Leo’s bedside, explaining everything about the new baby to him, assuring him that his place in our hearts would never change.

That weekend, Ethan decided to take Leo on a “man’s camping trip,” just the two of them. I watched them pack their bags, Leo excitedly stuffing his dinosaur guide and flashlight into his small backpack, while Ethan patiently taught him how to properly fold a sleeping bag. As they left, Ethan turned back to give me a tender kiss.

At home, I cleared out a small room to serve as the future nursery, painting the walls a soft yellow and hanging curtains printed with little stars and moons. I dug out items from Leo’s infancy—his first pair of shoes, blue ones with tiny bells on the laces; his first toy, a somewhat faded giraffe; his first drawing, crooked lines that supposedly depicted “Mommy and Leo.” These memories made me both nostalgic and expectant, my fingers lightly caressing each item as if I could touch the traces of time.

When they returned, the sun was just right. Leo’s face was slightly reddened by the sun, but his eyes were bright and his smile radiant. He excitedly showed me the pinecones and pretty stones he had found in the forest, then suddenly grew quiet, his expression turning serious.

He came to my side and said earnestly, “If there really is a brother or sister, I can lend them Captain Morgan.” He pointed to his beloved teddy bear, then added, “But just lending, not giving. When they’re a bit older and can take good care of toys, then they can touch my dinosaur models.”

I couldn’t help but smile at this stingy yet thoughtful declaration—his way of accepting the new family member. I crouched down to hug him, feeling his small arms around my neck, his body carrying the scent of sunshine and pine trees.

I sat on the backyard swing, gazing at the star-filled sky. Ethan approached with two cups of hot tea, sitting down beside me, the swing swaying slightly under his weight.

“When were you planning to tell me?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.

“You know?” I looked at him in surprise, his profile appearing especially gentle in the moonlight.

“Leo told me,” he smiled, tenderness gleaming in his eyes. “During camping, he very seriously asked if I was ready to be a father to two children. He said ‘Mom has stars in her tummy now.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh—this metaphor was so Leo, so innocent and beautiful. Ethan set down his teacup and knelt before me, his hands gently touching my abdomen, the sensation warm and reverent. Moonlight spilled onto his black hair, giving it a silver edge, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

“This time, I’ll be with you through every moment. From the first ultrasound to every midnight bout of morning sickness, from the first kick to every second of delivery. I won’t miss a single moment, Olivia.”

Tears welled in my eyes as my hands covered his. On this quiet night, under the witness of countless stars, we together anticipated the arrival of this new life: “I know you will.”

He leaned forward, gently kissing my abdomen, then my lips. In this moment, I felt immensely happy—our family would soon welcome new life, new hope, new love. The swing gently rocked, as if to the rhythm of a lullaby, and we had already begun creating beautiful memories for this little life not yet born.