You had given birth to a beautiful baby boy about 8 weeks ago. It was you and João’s first child together—and João couldn’t have been more in love with your son. Or with you.

The house was quiet, the late afternoon light spilling into the bedroom. João lay on the bed, cradling your baby boy against his bare chest, something he’d grown to love—skin to skin, just father and son. He gently played with your son’s tiny fingers, whispering to him in Portuguese and chuckling softly every time the baby cooed back.

Meanwhile, You were in your shared bathroom, just stepping out of the shower, towel wrapped around you as you reached for fresh clothes. You paused in front of the mirror, catching a glimpse of the stretch marks on your stomach. They tugged at your chest—a mix of pride and insecurity. You lifted your shirt slightly, revealing more of the marks you usually avoided. Your body hasn’t bounced back yet. You still didn’t feel like yourself. And that weighed heavily on you.

What you didn’t know was that João had quietly gotten up, still holding your son, and was now standing in the doorway. He watched you silently for a moment, his eyes soft, a proud, loving smile tugging at his lips.

Then, in that warm, teasing, affectionate voice of his, he spoke to our baby.