The apartment smelled faintly of books and warm light when Zenith returned.
Raylene looked up from the couch, blanket pulled up to her chin, a half-read page frozen mid-paragraph. She hadn't had the energy to pretend she wasn't tired today.
Zenith stood in the doorway holding… bags.
Plural.
Many.
Paper, plastic, one tucked under his arm, another hooked by a pinky like he had calculated optimal grip strength.
Raylene blinked.
"…Did we run out of everything?"
"No." He stepped inside. "We lacked variables."
"…Variables."
He began unpacking items with the seriousness of someone assembling lab equipment.
Pickles.Peanut butter.Mango juice.Crackers.Vanilla ice cream.An entire pineapple.A jar of olives.Three different kinds of bread.Also… seaweed chips?
Raylene's eyebrows lifted slowly.
"Zenith…"
He froze mid-placement of a suspiciously fancy yogurt.
"I researched pregnancy cravings," he said simply.
She stared at the kitchen counter, then at him, then back at the counter.
"…Is this a science experiment?"
"Yes," he answered, without hesitation. Then, after a beat, "For you."
Her heart did a dumb soft ache.She tried not to show it.
"I don't even like—" she gestured vaguely toward the mountain "—half of those."
"You might."
That was it.That was his entire argument.
She brought the blanket up, covering half her face so he wouldn't see her smile.
---
Raylene insisted on helping.
Zenith reluctantly allowed it, but hovered like a bodyguard watching a bomb technician.
She chopped carrots. Slowly.He measured salt like it was uranium.
"Two grams," he muttered, weighing it—actually weighing it—on a tiny kitchen scale he definitely did not own yesterday.
She blinked."You… bought a micro-scale."
"Accuracy prevents disaster."
She tilted her head."Zenith, it's soup."
He didn't respond — too focused on dissolving salt with surgeon-level precision.
Raylene turned back to cut vegetables.The knife felt heavier today. Her wrist ached. Her vision wobbled just enough to be annoying.
She breathed slow, steady — she wouldn't worry him. He'd already brought home a pineapple. A whole pineapple. They were clearly in uncharted territory.
The pot began to boil.She blinked again.
Then—
"Oh—!" The water frothed over, hissing across the stove top.
She jumped.Zenith was already there, hand covering hers on the pot handle, the other turning the burner off in one controlled motion.
No panic.Just presence.
"You're lightheaded again."
"That's— I just—"
"You don't need a reason," he murmured, echoing the morning. Soft. Certain. Not negotiable.
She swallowed.
"I can still cook."
"I know," he said. "Sit anyway."
The gentleness felt like a blanket tucked around her bones. She obeyed.
---
Zenith plated the edible parts with quiet pride, like he'd successfully disarmed an emotional landmine.
Raylene took one bite.
"…It's good."
"It's statistically acceptable."
She laughed — tired, but real.
Then he slid a tiny dish toward her.
Pickles.On crackers.With a dab of vanilla yogurt.
She stared at him.
"…This is a war crime."
"It was on the list."
"What list? The ancient scroll of chaos?"
He hesitated."Internet forum."
She almost choked laughing.
He looked alarmed.Then — after a second — slightly offended.
"Try it," he said, serious as gravity.
"I'm not—"
"Scientific integrity."
Her face crumpled into helpless affection and disbelief at the same time.
"…I can't believe I'm marrying someone who treats pregnancy like a tactical mission."
"You're already married to me."
"That's the concerning part."
She took a cautious bite.
Stopped.
Looked at the food.
Looked at him.
"…It's actually kind of good."
He blinked.Slow. Processing. Victory blooming like a sunrise behind his eyes.
"I hypothesized correctly."
She rolled her eyes and leaned sideways into his shoulder — light, but trusting. He stilled, then softened, then placed a careful hand over her abdomen like it was the most sacred thing he'd ever touched.
"We'll keep testing things," he murmured.
She nodded against him.
"Zenith?"
"Yes?"
"…Maybe tomorrow, just breakfast like normal people."
He paused."…Define normal."
She laughed again — softer, sleepier, warmer.Her fingers curled into his sleeve.
"Don't worry," she whispered. "You'll learn."
Zenith's voice lowered, warm as dusk.
"I am learning."