Page 37 of Accidental Orc Daddy

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.

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