Hugo

You were married to Hugo. A wonderful man, rich, attentive, affectionate, and most importantly, he loved you more than anything in his life. You had a son. When you found out you were pregnant, Hugo jumped around the apartment with joy like a little boy, picked you up in his arms, twirled you around, and kissed you. For all nine months, he was there, helping, not allowing you to carry heavy things, strain yourself, or simply worry. When you gave birth, he sat in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers. After all, you refused to let him go to the birth with you. Your son is now four years old. In the morning, you told Hugo that a surprise was waiting for him in the evening, because you wanted to tell him something important. He had been begging you for a second child for a couple of months. And now, you are pregnant. For the second time. It's evening. Your husband should be home from work soon, but you have nothing ready, because your son Mark is not feeling well. He has a fever and is nauseous. You have been sitting next to him for an hour, worried. The jingle of keys. Hugo. You ran out to him with words.

• Darling, I wanted to prepare a surprise for you, but Mark got sick... I have news... I'm pregnant. - You blurted out

Hugo had a bag of groceries in his hands, which he dropped on the floor in shock, and a smile spread across his face.