21. Meiko

"Are you sure he knows what he's talking about?" Mustaf asks unsurely for what must be the fifth time since we left the doctor's office.

I laugh gently, shaking my head as he opens the door to the high-end boutique. "He's one of the best physicians around here, Mustaf. You don't need to worry about it."

He follows me as I head over to a rack of baby clothes. "But if you ever feel like he's not treating you right–"

"I'll let you know," I assure him with a nod.

He nods back and finally relaxes a little bit.

Placing his hand on the small of my back, he guides me through the throng of baby products with an eagerness to point out anything we might need.

"A crib," he announces, sounding like it's some sort of novelty. "We're going to need a crib, right? And blankies, and pillows…"

Did he just say blankies?I hold back a giggle. The hesitance that had built up in my gut is being slowly chipped away by his infectious excitement, and the more he presents to me, the more I find myself nodding along.

"What?" he asks, his brows crossed in confusion.

"Oh, nothing, dear," I reply, smirking so hard my cheeks hurt.

He shrugs and returns his attention to browsing the items on display. His gaze is studious. I can't help but admire the effort he's putting in. He may not realize it, but his gestures are heartwarming and bring me a sense of warmth and protection.

As we move through the aisles of the high-end boutique, Mustaf listens intently as I talk about the different colors and themes I"m considering for the baby"s room. He nods along, his eyes focused on the various items we pass by.

"I was thinking about doing a neutral color scheme," I say, picking up a soft gray blanket and holding it up for him to see. "What do you think?"

Mustaf takes the blanket from me and rubs it between his fingers, considering it for a moment. "I like it," he says, nodding. "It"s calming and neutral but still has a bit of warmth to it."

I smile, glad that he agrees with my choice. "I was also thinking about adding some pops of color with accessories," I continue, pointing to a display of brightly colored pillows. "What do you think about these?"

Mustaf looks at the pillows, his eyes scanning over the different colors and patterns. "I like the blue one," he says, pointing to a pillow with a navy blue background and white stars. "It would add a nice touch to the room."

I can"t help but notice how Mustaf"s eyes light up at every little thing.

He picks up a soft yellow blanket and rubs it between his fingers, a small smile playing on his lips. "What about this one?" he asks, holding it up for me to see.

I reach for it, our fingers intertwining over the soft blanket. Smiling, I take it from him and feel the softness of the fabric between my own fingers. "It"s perfect," I say, smiling back at him.

We continue to move through the store, picking up items and discussing them in hushed tones. Mustaf listens intently as I talk about different colors and themes for the nursery, nodding along and adding his own ideas to the mix.

As we reach the toy section, Mustaf"s eyes widen in amazement. He picks up a small stuffed tiger and holds it out to me. "Look at this little guy," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "He"s so cute!"

I laugh and take the stuffed animal from him, giving it a squeeze. "He is pretty cute," I agree.

I feel a warmth spread through me as we continue to browse. It"s been a long time since I"ve felt this close to someone, and I can"t help but feel grateful for Mustaf"s presence in my life.

It would have been so overwhelming to go through all of this on my own. To think I was once so hesitant about involving him in our child's upbringing. I'm so glad he's here with me now.

He picks up item after item, examining them closely and adding them to our growing collection. I can"t help but feel a sense of amazement at his generosity.

Pulling a large plush giraffe, he holds it up for me to see. "Look at this guy," he says, his voice filled with wonder. "He"s so soft and cuddly."

Mustaf adds the giraffe to our pile and continues to browse the toys, picking up a stuffed monkey, a teddy bear, and a plush elephant.

"I don't think we'll need this much," I protest, reaching out to stop him from putting something else in.

"Our baby will want for nothing," he says, his voice filled with determination. "I want to make sure they have the best of everything."

I can"t help but feel touched by his words. It"s clear that Mustaf is going to be an amazing father, and I feel grateful to have him by my side.

As we make our way to the checkout, Mustaf"s arm slips around my waist and he pulls me close. "Thank you for letting me be a part of this," he whispers in my ear. "I know I haven"t been around for long, but I promise to be there for you and the baby every step of the way."

We leave the store, arm in arm and with our hands filled with baby supplies, but Mustaf gently guides me toward another boutique.

"I think it"s time we get you some new clothes," Mustaf says, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You"re going to need something to wear for the next few months."

I laugh and shake my head, feeling a bit overwhelmed by his generosity. "Mustaf, you"ve already done so much," I protest. "I don"t need anything else."

But Mustaf is insistent, his arm still firmly around my waist as he guides me toward the maternity boutique. "Nope. I won't have it," he says, his voice soft and sincere. "You matter just as much as our child."

I can"t help but feel touched by his words. It"s been a long time since someone has shown me this kind of care and attention.

As we enter the boutique, Mustaf"s eyes scan the racks of clothes, his brow furrowing in concentration. "You need something casual and comfortable," he says thoughtfully. "But you shouldn't have to sacrifice your style for that."

Damn, he's too perfect for his own good.

"I"ve got just the thing," he says, leading me over to a rack of flowy dresses. "These will be perfect for you."

He selects a few dresses in different colors and patterns, holding them up for me to see. I can"t help but feel a sense of excitement as I try them on, each dress more beautiful than the last.

As I enter the fitting room, Mustaf takes a seat on the bench outside and eagerly awaits my appearance. I try on the first dress, a flowing maxi dress with a floral print, and step out to show him.

Mustaf"s eyes light up as he takes in the dress, and he stands up to get a closer look. "You look beautiful," he says, his voice filled with sincerity. "That dress is perfect for you."

I smile, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks. "Thank you," I say, twirling around to show him the full effect of the dress.

Mustaf nods, his eyes never leaving me. "I love the way it flows," he says, reaching out to touch the fabric. "It"s soft and comfortable, so it won't irritate your skin." His hand leaves the fabric, running up my arm and giving me a gentle squeeze of reassurance.

I step back into the fitting room to try on the next dress, feeling a sense of excitement and anticipation. As I try on each dress, Mustaf"s compliments continue to flow, each one making me feel more and more beautiful.

"That color looks amazing on you," he says as I step out in a dress with a deep blue hue. "It brings out your eyes."

"I love the way that dress hugs your curves," he says as I model a form-fitting dress with a flattering empire waist.

"You look like a goddess," he says as I emerge in a dress with a Grecian-inspired silhouette.

Each compliment makes me smile wider and by the end of it, I feel like I'm practically glowing.

As we make our way out of the boutique, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven"t eaten in hours. I mention my craving for crab legs to Mustaf, and he immediately insists that we pause our shopping spree to indulge.

"There"s a great seafood restaurant just down the street," he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "We have to go there."

I smile and nod, feeling a sense of gratitude for Mustaf"s willingness to indulge my cravings. We make our way to the restaurant, and as we"re seated, Mustaf immediately orders a platter of crab legs for us to share.

As the waiter sets the platter down in front of us, Mustaf picks up a crab leg and begins to de-shell it with ease. "Here, let me do that for you," he says, holding out the crab meat on a fork.

I protest, feeling a bit embarrassed. "I"m perfectly capable of de-shelling my own crab legs," I say, reaching for a crab leg of my own.

Mustaf insists, his eyes filled with determination. "I want to do this for you," he says, his voice soft and sincere as he smiles. "You just sit back and relax, sweetness."

While we sit at our table and I sip on a cold glass of water, I can"t help but feel a sense of unease. Mustaf"s kindness and generosity have been overwhelming, and I can"t help but wonder if this is all too good to be true. What if this idyllic love becomes real and lasts forever? Could he truly be my partner in life?

I try to push the thought out of my mind, reminding myself that this is just an arrangement for the baby. I can"t let myself fall for Mustaf, no matter how much I might want to. It wouldn"t be fair to either of us.

But as he hands me a perfectly cleaned crab leg with that broad, warm smile, I realize that it might be too late to stop myself.