Using a Cannon to Kill a Mosquito

The next morning.

Akasaka really had not slept well. He yawned, with deep dark circles beneath his eyes.

He had truly not dared to sleep.

He was afraid that if he slept in an ugly position and accidentally kicked Mahiru off the bed, she might even miscarry because of it. He would regret that for the rest of his life.

Akasaka washed his face in the bathroom, trying to wake himself up a little.

He had practically developed paranoia.

Even if there was only the slightest chance that something might happen to the child, he did not want any accidents. So he told Mahiru, "Let's sleep in separate beds from now on. I'll sleep on the sofa and you sleep in the bed. I'm afraid I might accidentally hurt you and the child in your belly..."

Mahiru was making breakfast in the kitchen. Hearing that, she turned back and said helplessly to her husband.

"I'm not as fragile as you imagine, you know. Could you stop being so overly cautious?"

Wearing a pair of heat-resistant gloves, Mahiru brought the cooked millet porridge to the table. She untied her apron and removed the gloves, then let down the bun she had pinned at the back of her head. Pulling out a chair, she prepared to call her husband over to eat.

Akasaka came out of the bathroom, dried his face with a towel, and sat down. As he drank the millet porridge Mahiru had cooked and chewed on the leftovers from last night, he answered her earlier words, "Of course it's necessary. Right now, you're my only wife and child. If I don't pour all my love into you, how could I ever be at ease?"

In a sense, Akasaka had not lied. At present, she truly was his only wife