The first trimester was a storm of conflicting emotions. Natsuki struggled to balance her freelance commissions with the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin. Her once-steady hands now wavered mid-stroke, and her palette of colors seemed muted. During a particularly frustrating day, she collapsed onto her studio floor, tears mingling with paint flecks, wondering if she was strong enough to endure both pregnancy and the pressure of being a mother. That night, Kaito found her and, without a word, filled her studio with the sound of saxophone music so gentle it made her heart ache. "You don’t have to be perfect," he whispered. "Just present."