Derek was seated at the kitchen table, looking over at the hot bowl of chili verde in front of him. The rich smell of pork and tomatillos filled the kitchen, usually a comforting presence, but now it just seemed to add to the weight of the evening's silence. Marie was at the counter, scrubbing at a spot that wasn't there, her movements sharp and forceful. The cleaning had become more intense everyday since they found out about the baby. Derek watched her, the constant motion a clear sign of the stress they were both feeling but not talking about.

When they discovered that Marie was pregnant, life had changed in that moment. Even unborn, there were three of them and it terrified Derek. He was so afraid that their baby would end up like him. Cold, jaded, cynical. He needed to resolve his issues and therapy was the first step toward a happy life.

Another pass over the entire counter for the tenth time that day, she finally stopped and joined Derek at the table. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked up a soda cracker, nibbling at the edges. The saltines were one of the few things that seemed to calm her rolling nausea these days.

Derek studied his wife's pale face, noting the dark circles under her dark eyes. "How are you feeling?" He asked, his voice carrying a weight of concern that filled the space between them.

"Oh, you know. Queasy as ever." Marie attempted a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. The smile she offered was meant to be reassuring, but it faltered, the edges not quite reaching the tired eyes that spoke volumes of her silent ordeal.

He reached across the table, enveloping her small hand in his. "I wish I could make it better. Take the sickness away."

"I know you do." She gave his hand a grateful squeeze. "It's just part of it, unfortunately. A rite of passage for us women."

"Why don't I make you a quesadilla?" he offered. "Might be easier on your stomach than the soup."

Marie sighed, pushing back her chair. "No, it's okay. I think I just need some air."

Before Derek could respond, she was out the back door, the chill autumn breeze stirring her hair. He watched her silhouette through the windowpane, shoulders hunched against the dreary gray sky. This had been increasingly more common. So common, in fact, that Derek started using his propane grill on the deck to cook most meals instead of cooking in the house. If something set off her nausea, she would retreat downstairs to avoid the smell while Derek tried, unsuccessfully, to vent the smells.

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Rising slowly, Derek moved the piping hot soup from the stove to the counter, the ceramic bowl burning his fingers. He understood Marie's trepidation. Bringing a child into this chaotic world wouldn't be easy, but they'd face the challenge.

Derek's hands, steady and sure, returned the piping hot bowl of chili from their spots to the pot and then transferred it to a container that would go in the fridge after it cooled. Regardless of her rejection of the alternative meal, he cooked it anyway. He knew she would eat it. It was one of the few meals that didn't upset her stomach.

He flipped the tortilla using his fingers and touching the hot skillet at the same time. The skillet was hot, but hadn't transferred enough heat to burn. He was rapidly having to adapt to the new normal that had settled over their home since the pregnancy began. The cheese quesadilla sizzling as a tangible representation of his efforts to soothe Marie's discomfort. Each flip of the tortilla was like a gentle reassurance, a silent promise that he was there for her.

Marie turned at the sound of the door opening as he exited with the plate. She managing a small smile, accepting the proffered plate as Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. They stood that way for several moments, not speaking.

"Feeling any better?" Derek asked gently.

Marie picked at her quesadilla, shaking her head. "Not really. I just feel so...off. Like my body isn't my own anymore."

Derek nodded in understanding. Marie's rapid mood swings and constant nausea had become their new normal these past couple of months.

She released a heavy sigh. "I just wish I could enjoy this pregnancy instead of being miserable all the time. Some days I can barely stand to be in the kitchen because of the smells."

"Well, that's why we have the grill," Derek said, gesturing to the appliance. "I don't mind cooking out here if it makes things easier."

Marie gave him a grateful smile and squeezed his hand. For all her anxiety, she was thankful to have such a supportive partner. They stood in comfortable silence for a while, finishing their makeshift dinner. There was a hopeful feeling in the air. Creating a family wouldn't be easy, but they would face it together, one day at a time.

"Why don't you go relax on the couch while I clean up?" he suggested.

Marie nodded and padded into the living room. She curled up under a blanket, flipping aimlessly through her phone. Nothing held her interest for long. Derek gathered the empty plates, his movements deliberate and quiet, not wanting to disturb the fragile peace that had settled over the house. The clink of dishes as he stacked them in the dishwasher seemed overly loud in the stillness. He hoped that clearing away the remnants of their meal might ease Marie's lingering nausea.

Derek scrubbed the dishes efficiently, rinsing away any leftover grease or sauce. He even took the time to wipe down the counters and take out the trash, removing any potential nausea triggers.

When he entered the living room, he found Marie dozing on the couch. He draped another blanket over her, causing her to stir.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," she mumbled.

"No need to apologize," Derek said. "You need your rest."

He kissed her forehead and let her drift back to sleep, knowing these quiet moments together were about to become few and far between. But he appreciate them all the more for their fleeting nature.