In our several years of marriage, Robert has never truly opened up about his parents. I know the story over them - his dad left, and his mom was an alcoholic - but I never knew how Robert handled it all. To have things like that occur in your life at such a young age is life-altering. I know that Robert had to learn how to mature quickly and adapt to taking care of himself, but he's never confessed how that all affects him today.

A few months back, Robert's father came over to the states unexpectedly, and with that, I was able to meet him, and he was able to meet his unborn grandchild and me. He seemed like a kind man, but that still didn't ignore the fact that he had yet to say "sorry" to Robert for his earlier actions when his son was just a child. However, no words of apologies fell from his lips, and even after he left, Robert didn't feel like anything had progressed in their relationship. In fact, he felt like they were still in the same spot they remained originally - maybe even farther back. According to Robert, he got the feeling that his dad was holding something back, but as to what, he had no clue.

It wasn't until tonight that the topic of his dad was brought up again. Although, the way his father was brought up was kind of weird. Robert had come home from work like any other night; however, this time, he altogether avoided me and went over to the couch where he sat down and held his head in his hands. Now seven months pregnant, I slowly padded over to him in the living room before sitting beside him. He had been so caught up in his own mind that my sudden presence frightened him, causing him to jolt slightly before looking over at me and sighing with a small, almost unnoticeable smile.

"Are you okay, baby?" I ask him, moving to  brush his golden locks back and away from his eyes. "You're not acting right tonight - is something wrong?" I add, only receiving a head shake from Robert. "Would you like me to make you something?"

"No, no, I'm not hungry," he tells me, leaning his head against mine with a small sigh. Now I know something isn't right. Robert always comes home from the hospital hungry - it's not like he's had dinner there, and on the rare nights he does eat there, he still comes home with an appetite.

I watch with curiosity as Robert stands from the couch before turning for me with his hand held out. "Care to join me in bed?" He asks quietly, making me furrow my eyebrows a bit. Usually, he's not tired enough to head straight to bed after getting home, but I guess tonight is just an off-night for him.

"Sure," I tell him, placing my hand in his before standing up and wobbling only a little bit. Despite only being at the end of my second trimester, Robert's baby is the size of at least a small watermelon. There is no way this baby is coming out with a weight below six pounds.

With Robert's hand on my lower back, we both head to our room and change into pajamas before lying down beside each other. I'm not used to falling asleep at only ten at night, but I know that this is a blessing for Robert. Sleep deprivation is not something unusual in a doctor's life, and combining that with the fact that he sometimes comes home with the intention of staying up late and spending time with me, Robert only gets about five hours of sleep each night. I don't know how he stays so strong with the lack of rest.

Turning over to see if Robert has fallen asleep, I instead find him staring at the ceiling with a stone face. He continues to stay this way, unmoving, until something causes his Adam's apple to bob in his throat while a shuddered breath leaves his nostrils. With that, my concern comes back in full force as I turn on my side to face him. "Robert," I gently whisper his name, watching as his eyes flicker over to mine. "What's wrong, baby?"

Those seem to be the magic words that break the dam of the oncoming tears that fall from Robert's eyes. I try my hardest to lean up a bit and wipe them away, but my large bump slows me down in doing so. Aside from that, Robert's hands sliding underneath my waist and placing themselves on my back is what stops me completely. "D-don't strain, yourself," he tells me, his voice gentle, yet broken.

"Robert, what's wrong?" I prod him once more, placing my palm on the side of his face. "Please - tell me," I murmur, nuzzling my head closer to his. "I need to know what's wrong."

At first, Robert closes his eyes and shakes his head, but after a few seconds, his face scrunches up before he reopens his eyes, now full of tears once again. "My dad," He starts, pausing as if he were weary of his own voice. "He, uh," Robert tries to continue on, but ultimately, he stops once again, only to break back through with heart-crushing words. "He died of cancer, and he never told me - even when I was standing right in front of him."

With Robert's confession, I close my eyes as I feel my entire body slump as I process what Robert has just told me. Yes, I know Robert has never had a close relationship with his father, but that doesn't totally dismiss the fact that Robert's dad is indeed his father! To lose such an important person in your life without developing the bond that most sons and fathers get to have, and not even tell him a final goodbye on top of that, is a hard thing for anybody; however, I know for Robert, it's just a little harder as he is now not only permanently missing a mother-figure in his life, but a father-figure as well.

"I'm so sorry, baby," I whisper, watching as Robert turns to conform into the shape of my body - baby bump and all.

Pushing his head into my chest, Robert inhales and exhales calmly for a few moments before eventually pulling away with another stuttered sigh. "I thought if I just didn't care th-that I would be good, I wouldn't have to hurt when he popped back into my life for the millionth time only to swing back out the minute something pivotal happens," He confesses, raising his hand to rest on my waist. "The last thing we did, we shook hands, but I-I went in for a hug," Robert further admits. "Something told me to go against everything I had taught myself not to do and embrace the man that had hurt me as a child - the very person that let my childhood be stripped away from me!"

"Sh-sh," I urge Robert to calm down, running my hand against his golden locks. "I know it's hard, Robert, but you can't get upset at yourself for this. You had no idea this was going on," I remind him, feeling him gently shake his head as I do so.

"Yeah, but I suspected something was wrong, (Y/n)," he explains, sniffling as he lies his head on the bed beside my chest. "Maybe if I would've asked him, or pressured him to tell me, then maybe I could've done something-"

"And what else could you have done that he wasn't already doing?" I ask, pointing out the obvious. "He was a doctor, Robert. He was probably doing everything he could've done, but none of it worked. Why would he have expected you to change anything?"

Once again, Robert shakes his head. "But why didn't he tell me?" He asks the most important question, making me sigh. How am I supposed to answer this correctly?

Going with my gut, I tell him my thoughts and opinions with gentleness and softness. "You and I both know that your father did nothing right when you were a child," I point out, "Maybe this was his one last chance in trying to break that pattern of failing you as a father," With that, I sigh, hoping maybe my words will have a positive effect on Robert rather than an adverse one. "And maybe he was trying to catch a glimpse of the amazing and wonderful grown man you've become - one who's about to be a father too."

Once I finish speaking, I look down at Robert as he blankly stares ahead of him, tears steadily flowing from his eyes. However, something within him snaps, and the next thing he's doing is leaning down to my belly with his lips mere centimeters away. "I promise," He begins, his voice shaky. "I would sacrifice everything if it meant never disappointing her," Robert promises, leaning down to press his cheek against my risen stomach.

Despite his face being turned away from me, I know he's still crying as I can feel the tears begin seeping through my nightgown as well as hear him sniffle. "I-I don't want to do what my father did to me, and I promise both of you, I will never leave you - no matter what."

Smiling, I nod at him while pushing his golden hair to the side. "I know, baby," I assure him, letting out a small sigh afterward. Robert doesn't have to say any of this for me to know that's how he feels. He swore to these things the moment we said "I love you" after only a few months of being together. It was that moment in our relationship that I knew Robert would be the man I would marry, have children with, and love for the rest of my life. On the night he proposed to me, I discovered he felt the same way.

Once the sniffles stop and Robert seems a little bit better, he leans up from my stomach to be face-to-face with me. "I love you so much, (Y/n)," He tells me, pressing his lips onto mine only seconds later with his hands still resting on my stomach. "With everything I have, I love you so damn much."

Smiling, I reciprocate his earlier actions and place my lips against his as well. "I love you too, Robert," I tell him, feeling as a warm sensation floods my chest. It's almost like the first time we're saying these things to each other when, in reality, it's probably the thousandth time. Although this may be true, I can't wait for the next thousandth "I love you" to fall from our lips.