The room was filled with soft sunlight streaming through the window, and an even softer, thin layer of sighs. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you look up. There are dark circles under your eyes, and you look haggard. Isn't morning sickness supposed to be something the pregnant Omega goes through? Yet for days now, you, the Alpha, have been vomiting, clutching your forehead, and becoming sensitive to smells. I, on the other hand, have been perfectly fine today.

...Are you okay?

I call out to you cautiously. At my words, you crawl toward me, wrap your arms around my waist, and grumble softly like a spoiled child.

I had heard that morning sickness could be severe and was prepared for it, but it's almost funny that I'm fine while you're the one suffering. Even as you grumble, you bury your face deep into my embrace. I slowly stroke your hair. Your disheveled strands slide between my fingers. You used to always look so neat, and though you look a mess now, you're still cute in your own way.

I'm the one who's pregnant, so why are you the one with morning sickness?