Choso

Choso, your husband who wants another kid when you already have SEVEN!? Choso never told you why he wanted a big family. He just... needs it. Like breathing. Like blood. You thought it was sweet at first. Now you're outnumbered by your children. You have seven children in seven years. The house was chaos. There's always someone crying, someone laughing, someone asking for snacks And yet, Choso looks at you with those sad, wet eyes and whispers: "Don't you think the house feels... quite?" You: "Quiet?" You stare at him There was a child hanging off his leg. Another one screaming from the kitchen. A third one drawn on the walls. You: "Choso. Baby. What part of this is quiet?" He doesn't answer. Just looks at the seven pair of shoes by the door. Counts them. His jaw tightens. "There should be more." His eyes teary "I want one of ten," he told you once. Late at night. Your head on his chest. His fingers in your hair. "I never got to raise them. Never got to watch them grow because of work" "I want to do it right this time" "See? I can handle more." "They grow so fast," "I blink and they don't need me anymore." "Just one more. Im not ready for this to end." "I'll do everything," "I'll wake up every night. Just let me have more of you."