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"Are you sure you want that?" Callum asked, a bit concerned. Rayla had started asking for some questionable food choices a few days ago, but this was the oddest one so far.
"Yeah," Rayla said, looking ashamed, a bit of red in her cheeks.
"No, no, it's fine. I will make it," Callum said, waving his hands and heading to the kitchen.
Callum cringed at the mere thought of eating scrambled eggs with moonberries, but he wasn't going to question anything Rayla craved. She deserved everything she wanted, and that included weird food combinations.
"You don’t need to‚ I can make it."
"When I said I would do anything for you, I also meant cooking," Callum said from the kitchen. Their little house in Evrkynd was small enough to communicate from different rooms just by using a loud tone.
"Alright, Mister Mage, do your magic then."
Rayla ate her eggs with moonberries as if they were the most delicious food in the world. The same woman who had gagged at moonberry surprise just two days ago.
After a few moments of silence, after Rayla had finished eating, a question emerged from her mouth. "Do you think I'm weird?"
Callum turned his attention from the book he was focused on to his wife, confused by the sudden question. He was laying on the couch. "Uh?"
"This..." she said, pointing at her food, "is very weird."
Callum shook his head, went to Rayla, and sat by her side at the table. "It's not weird," Callum started, caressing her cheek. "For you, at least."
Rayla turned her head to him with a furrowed brow, Callum immediately noticing his oopsie. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Um, I mean—pregnant people eat weird things all the time, right?"
"So it is weird. Got it." There were little tears forming in Rayla's eyes. Her emotions had been all over the place lately, almost crying at any minor inconvenience.
"That's not it! I mean, yes, maybe it is a bit weird, but there's nothing wrong with it. Weird is good, right? We are both weird. Ezran is also weird."
Rayla looked him in the eyes, fully crying now. Callum felt like he had messed up completely and had the sudden urge to cry as well, something he had to repress so as not to make her feel worse.
Callum started rubbing her back. "Rayla, it's fine."
"It's just... I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."
"You're not."
Rayla sniffed. "I don't feel like myself."
Callum gently held her face in his hands to look into her eyes. "Of course you don't. Your body is going through a lot of changes. Growing a whole new person isn’t easy."
Rayla side-eyed the empty food plate. "It should be."
Callum didn't know what to say. He wanted things to be easier for her, sure. If he could, he would have already cast a spell to fix her cravings or anything that annoyed or pained her, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was support her and try to make the pregnancy go as smoothly as possible. His priority was for her to be happy and comfortable after all.
Callum hugged her; she melted into his arms. This wasn't going to be forever; she could get through it.
"It'll be okay, Rayla; it'll be okay," Callum said, resting his head on hers.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Callum was aghast once more at another of Rayla's requests. Barius would probably have been offended by the next thing Rayla asked for: a sandwich of strawberries and pickles.
"Alright."
"Wait, we don't have pickles... You hate them."
"I will go buy some." Callum was already picking up his jacket.
"At night?"
"Yeah."
"While it's raining!?"
Callum was walking to the door, ready to leave the house. "I got the pluvium praesidium, don't you worry."
Rayla grabbed him by the arm, stopping him from going outside. "Callum, seriously, you don't need to. It can be a strawberry sandwich only."
"You need pickles!"
“I don’t ‘need’ pickles. I will survive.”
“The store is close by. I’ll be right back.”
Rayla looked upset, but that didn’t stop Callum from heading to the 24-hour store. (A store that was open for 24 hours, as the name suggested, an invention from Duren.)
His entire mood turned to disappointment upon noticing there weren't any pickles left. Now what? He didn't want Rayla to cry.
Callum had an idea: there was someone who always had all kinds of vegetables at home.
Callum knocked on Terry’s door. The young man opened the door,
Terry seemed really surprised at Callum’s presence but acted as cordial as always. "Hi Callum! What brings you here? At night… while it's raining…?"
"I need pickles."
"What?"
"Pickles. Do you have any? Could you lend me some? I will give them back."
"You will lend me back pickles?"
"No, I meant I will pay them back."
"You don't need to pay them back! We are friends and neighbors, aren't we?"
Callum stared at Terry. They were neighbors, but friends? He was still in love with the person who almost ruined their lives. He had even helped her before. Callum couldn't deny he resented the earthblood elf, but he had to pretend. He needed the pickles. "Sure."
They both stayed awkwardly still for a few seconds.
“Do you want to come inside?" Terry asked, looking at the rain and then at Callum.
"No, thank you. I’ll just get the pickles. I need to go back with Rayla."
"How’s she doing?"
"She is fine, but she needs pickles, so if you could—"
"Oh! Cravings?"
Callum was starting to get annoyed. "Yeah."
"My mother used to crave sweets all the time. She didn’t even like them.” Terry chuckled.
"Terry.”
"Oops, sorry. Be right back!”
Terry went inside the house; he returned after a few minutes with a bag of pickles. "I got them!" Callum grabbed the bag.
“Thanks, Terry. I will buy you some tomorrow.”
“I told you, you don’t need to—” But Callum was already walking in the opposite direction.
Callum entered his house, greeted by a surprised Rayla. "Callum, you are all wet! You told me you would use the spell!"
Callum looked at himself; he had never minded rain that much. "I kind of forgot."
"Dummy..."
Rayla went to the bathroom and came back with some towels, throwing one at Callum’s head. “You will catch a cold. Go change while I make dinner. What do you want to eat?”
“The same as you.”
Rayla looked at him with incredulity. “A sandwich of strawberries and pickles?”
“Yep.”
“Callum, you don’t have to.”
“But I want to,” Callum said, followed by a sneeze.
“Look, we’ve got another Sneezles now!” said Rayla while he dried his head with the towel. “Okay. Go change.”
When Callum finished changing, there were two sandwiches on the dining table and a plate with scrambled eggs.
“I made you eggs in case you don’t like the sandwich.”
“Cool.”
“Because you won’t. It’s weird and gross, and you don’t even like pickles.”
“Well, you ought to try new foods, right?”
When they both started eating, Callum thought he might have died on the spot. It was the worst thing he had ever eaten. Rayla was eyeing him curiously, so he wasn’t about to show his terrible disdain for the meal.
“How is it?”
“Good!”
Rayla raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”
“I mean, it's not the best thing I have eaten, but it’s decent.”
Decent wasn’t even close. He wanted to gag.
“Thank you.” The words of his wife interrupted the flood of curses Callum was throwing at his dinner in his mind.
“For what?”
“For… well, everything.” She smiled at him, no tears or doubts, just happy and radiant. “I’m so lucky to have you.”
“Well, you are in this situation because of me, so it’s the least I can do.”
Rayla snorted. “I’m sure you need two people to make a baby.”
“Exactly. Two. You couldn’t have made one without me.”
“That’s what’s beautiful about it, isn’t it?”
Callum blushed, a big idiotic grin crossing his face. He still couldn’t believe they would be parents in a couple of months. A perfect combo of them both… He couldn’t wait to meet the little creature and for Rayla to be free of the torment of pregnancy. “It is. It’s beautiful.”
Rayla looked at him with sparkly eyes and then kept eating. “I think they will be weird.”
“The baby?”
“Yes. Can you believe the things they ask me to eat?”
“Well, we are also weird, so by our standards, she will just be normal.”
“She?”
“I think it will be a girl.”
“You think, or do you want to?”
“Can’t it be both?”
“Well, too bad you can’t choose the gender.”
“Here’s a funny thing: did you know researchers have proven the father’s sperm determines the gender?”
Rayla raised her hand, pointing at the half-eaten sandwiches. “Callum, I don’t really want to talk about sperm right now.”
“Oh! Right, sorry.”
Rayla rolled her eyes, but she didn’t hide how amusing she found her husband’s antics. “What about this: we should nickname her ‘Pickle.’”
Callum cringed. “Please, no—anything but pickles.”
Her eyes pointed at his sandwich. It wasn’t even half eaten. “You seem to be enjoying yours now, though.”
“They have never tasted better. Remind me tomorrow to buy some for Terry.”
“Terry?”
“Yes, he gave me the pickles.”
Rayla looked at her husband skeptically. “For real? You don’t even like him.”
Callum adopted a dramatic pose, eyes closed and hand over his heart. “Yeah, but my love needed pickles.”
“You are absolutely ridiculous.”
Callum chuckled when Rayla threw a pickle at his head. “And you love it.”
“And I love it. Yep. Wouldn’t change it for anything. I love my ridiculous man and our soon-to-be ridiculous baby.”
“Six months.”
“Six months until we meet Pickle.” Rayla touched her belly gently. As annoyed as she was about the pregnancy, Callum knew she already loved the little one.
They both laughed; Pickle had become the baby’s official nickname.