The news of the pregnancy had transformed the Black Box into a fortress of pampering, but by the second month, the "honeymoon phase" of the announcement had been replaced by the legendary, unpredictable, and relentless force of nature known as The Watson Cravings.
It was 2:14 AM. The mansion was silent, the crickets of Tagaytay providing a rhythmic backdrop to the cool night air. Inside the master suite, the king-sized bed was a sea of silk sheets and heavy duvets.
I sat up suddenly, my eyes snapping open. My stomach didn't just want food; it was demanding a very specific, very nostalgic flavor from our university days—a flavor that definitely didn't belong in a billionaire's mansion.
I turned to the side. Keifer was fast asleep, his breathing deep and even. Even in sleep, his arm was draped protectively across my waist, his hand resting instinctively near my stomach. He looked so peaceful—the "Monster" CEO finally at rest.
I tried to go back to sleep. I counted sheep. I thought about surgical procedures. But all I could see was a steaming bowl of Hev's Special Spicy Garlic Ramen from that tiny, cramped stall behind the University gates.
Psst... hubby," I whispered, poking his shoulder.
Keifer didn't just wake up; he sat up with the alertness of a soldier. "Jay? What's wrong? Is it a cramp? Are you in pain? Do I need to call the ambulance?"
"No, no," I said, feeling a bit guilty as I saw the genuine panic in his eyes. "I'm fine. The baby is fine. It's just..."
"Just what, weify?"
"I need ramen. Not the fancy Wagyu ramen from the hotel. I need the one from the stall near the University. The one with the extra-processed garlic oil and the egg that's slightly overcooked."
The Watson Mobilization
Keifer stared at me for a beat, blinking. He looked at the clock. "It's two in the morning, honey. That stall is two hours away in the city. I can have the chef make you a 5-star version right now."
It won't taste like the University," I pouted, crossing my arms. "The baby wants the University ramen, Keifer."
Keifer sighed, but a soft, defeated smile tugged at his lips. He reached for his phone on the nightstand. "Fine. If the heir wants University ramen, the heir gets University ramen."
He didn't just call a driver. Within ten minutes, the entire security detail was awake. I watched from the window as three black SUVs fired up their engines.
Moya, wake up the owner of that stall," Keifer commanded into his phone as he pulled on a hoodie. "I don't care if they're closed. Tell them the Watson Group is buying their entire stock for the night. And call Kit—he knows the exact spice level Jay likes."
The Late-Night Kitchen Raid
While we waited for the security team to bring the food back from the city, Keifer led me down to the kitchen. He couldn't just sit still.
While we wait, is there anything else?" he asked, raiding the industrial-sized fridge.
"Ice cream," I said. "But... with bagoong (shrimp paste)."
Keifer froze, a carton of premium vanilla in one hand and a jar of fermented shrimp in the other. He looked at me with a mixture of love and pure horror. "Jay... as a doctor, are you sure about this combination?"
"Don't judge the process, CEO Watson," I teased.
He sighed and actually prepared it for me, serving it on a silver platter as if it were a Michelin-star dessert. He watched me eat it with a fascinated, slightly terrified expression.
The Arrival
An hour and a half later, the front gates opened. A security guard ran into the kitchen carrying a familiar brown paper bag, looking like he had just completed a top-secret mission. The smell of burnt garlic and cheap spices filled the room
Success, Sir," the guard panted. "The owner was confused, but he opened the stall just for us."
I dived into that ramen like it was the finest meal on earth. Keifer sat across from me, leaning his chin on his hand, watching me eat with a look of pure, unadulterated devotion. He didn't care about the smell or the late hour.
"Better, weify?" he asked softly, reaching out to wipe a drop of broth from my lip with his thumb.
Much better, hubby," I sighed, finally satisfied.
The Aftermath
Just as I was finishing, the kitchen door creaked open. Keigan and Keiran stumbled in, rubbing their eyes, lured by the smell of the garlic.
"Is there a party?" Keigan asked, spotting the ramen. "Wait... is that the University ramen? Did you guys seriously get a delivery from Manila at 4:00 AM?"
Your Mumma had a request," Keifer said, standing up and stretching. "Go back to sleep, boys. The crisis is over."
"Man," Keiran whispered, shaking his head. "When I have a wife, I hope I'm half as whipped as Kuya."
Keifer just smirked and steered me back toward the stairs. "It's not called being 'whipped,' Keiran. It's called Watson logistics. Now, everyone back to bed before she decides she wants mangoes from a specific tree in Cebu."
As we tucked ourselves back into bed, the sun just beginning to peek over the Tagaytay ridge, Keifer pulled me close, his hand back on its favorite spot—my stomach.
"You got what you wanted, honey?"
"Yes," I whispered, drifting off. "But Keifer?"
"Yeah?"
"I think tomorrow I might want green mangoes."
I heard him let out a long, heavy sigh into my hair, but he didn't complain. He just held me tighter.