Across The Hallway

CHAPTER 39

BABY RULES

The transition of Christine’s workload to Anna proved to be a lifesaver. With her day-to-day responsibilities cut in half, she finally had the breathing room she desperately needed while her body worked overtime. A few weeks later, a small but unmistakable baby bump had begun to show, changing the fit of her tailored blazers and drawing a proud smile from Jeff every time he looked at her.

But with the bump came the cravings—unpredictable, urgent, and incredibly specific.

At 1:30 a.m., the bedroom was pitch-black and perfectly still, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner. Christine lay awake on her side, staring into the darkness as one persistent thought refused to leave her mind: unripe green mangoes. She rolled over and gently shook the broad shoulder beside her. “Jeff.”

A low groan escaped him as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. After spending the afternoon visiting construction sites under the scorching sun and sitting through a marathon strategy meeting afterward, exhaustion weighed heavily on him. Even so, the moment he felt her hand on his arm, his protective instincts pushed through the fog of sleep. He slowly opened his eyes, blinking against the darkness before rolling onto his back.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice thick with sleep as he rested a warm hand on her hip. “What do you need?”

Christine gave him an apologetic smile. “I want unripe green mangoes.”

For a few seconds, Jeff simply stared at the ceiling as his sleepy mind tried to make sense of the words he’d just heard. “Green mangoes,” he repeated slowly.

“Yes.” Her fingers traced absentminded circles across his chest. “The really sour, crunchy ones. And maybe some bagoong… or rock salt. Please, Jeff?”

He let out a long sigh and dragged both hands over his face, trying to wake himself completely. Every aching muscle begged him to stay in bed, but saying no to his pregnant wife had never really been an option. A tired chuckle escaped him, and he leaned over to kiss her shoulder.

“Alright.” He slowly pushed the duvet aside and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck while mentally sorting through every place that might still be open. “One midnight mission for sour mangoes coming right up.”

Christine smiled triumphantly and tucked herself deeper beneath the blanket. “You’re the best Chief Executive Husband.”

“Don’t flatter me yet,” Jeff replied with a sleepy grin as he pulled a T-shirt over his head. “If I can’t find mangoes at two in the morning, I’m coming back to negotiate a compromise involving dill pickles.”

“I don’t want pickles.”

“Good.” He pointed toward her stomach. “Let’s hope our child agrees.”

She shook her head, still smiling. “I don’t think the baby’s taking suggestions.”

“That’s exactly what worries me.” Chuckling quietly, Jeff grabbed his wallet and car keys from the dresser before leaning down to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be back.”

The quiet streets of Rockwell gradually gave way to the early-morning bustle of Manila. By 2:15 a.m., the wholesale market had already begun to stir. Delivery trucks unloaded fresh produce while vendors greeted one another over steaming cups of coffee, the cool night air carrying the scent of damp pavement and ripe fruit. Dressed in a plain T-shirt, sweatpants, and an expensive watch that looked oddly out of place in the market, Jeff moved through the stalls with one goal in mind. Finally, beneath the warm glow of a hanging bulb, he spotted them: piles of rock-hard green Indian and native mangoes.

“Boss, para kay misis?” the middle-aged vendor asked with a knowing grin as Jeff inspected the fruit.

Jeff smiled despite his exhaustion. “Yes. The sourer, the better. And do you have bagoong?”

“Aba, syempre!”

The vendor quickly filled a bag with the crispest mangoes he could find before reaching beneath the table for a fresh jar of sweet-spicy bagoong alamang. Ten minutes later, Jeff was back on the road, the precious bag resting safely on the passenger seat.

By 2:45 a.m., only the warm under-cabinet lights illuminated the condo kitchen. Jeff quietly washed the mangoes, peeled away the thick green skin, and sliced the firm fruit into crisp wedges. He arranged them neatly on a plate beside a small dish of bagoong and a pinch of rock salt before carrying everything into the bedroom. Christine was already sitting up against the headboard, her phone resting in her lap. The moment she saw him, her eyes brightened.

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“You found them?”

Jeff rubbed a tired hand across his face before letting out a quiet laugh. “Eventually. Three convenience stores and one market later.”

Christine covered a smile with her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“You will be,” Jeff said, pretending to sound serious. “If our child starts craving durian at two in the morning, we’re negotiating.”

Christine laughed softly. “I don’t even like durian.”

“Good.” He pointed toward her stomach. “Let’s hope the baby takes after you on that one.”

Still smiling, Christine picked up a thick slice of mango, dipped it generously into the bagoong, and took a satisfying bite. A blissful sigh escaped her. “Oh my God, Jeff… this is incredible.”

Jeff watched with quiet amusement as she reached for another slice. “Worth the trip?”

She nodded without hesitation. “The absolute best.” She picked up another wedge and held it toward him. “Try one.”

Jeff accepted it. The moment the sourness hit, one eye instinctively squeezed shut. Christine burst into laughter.

“I knew you’d make that face.”

“I think my jaw just surrendered.”

Her laughter only grew brighter. After another few bites, she set the plate aside and reached for his hand.

“Thank you, Jeff.” Her voice softened. “I know how exhausted you were tonight.”

Jeff leaned forward until their foreheads rested together. His hand slipped gently beneath the blanket and came to rest over the small curve of her growing belly. “I’d drive anywhere for you two, Chris.” He kissed her softly. “Now both of you get some sleep.”

The morning light filtered into the master bedroom, bringing with it the familiar rhythm of another workday. After her late-night mango feast, Christine felt surprisingly refreshed. She slipped into a relaxed executive blouse and adjusted her tailored trousers beneath her growing baby bump before turning toward the vanity. Across the room, Jeff straightened his collar in the mirror. Ready to leave, he reached for the glass bottle of his signature cologne—a rich, woodsy fragrance he had worn for years—and sprayed it across his wrists and neck.

He smiled as he turned toward Christine. “Ready to go, Mom—”

Before he could finish, Christine’s eyes widened. She immediately took two quick steps backward, covering her nose and mouth. “Jeff… stop right there!”

He froze mid-step. “What?”

She squeezed her eyes shut as another wave of nausea rolled over her. “Don’t come any closer.”

Concern instantly replaced the smile on Jeff’s face. “Chris?” He took a cautious half-step forward. “Are you dizzy again?”

She quickly shook her head. “No.” She waved her hand frantically through the air. “Your cologne.”

Jeff blinked. “My cologne?”

“It suddenly smells…” She grimaced. “…unbearable.” She swallowed hard. “My stomach is doing flips.”

Jeff instinctively glanced down at himself before looking back at the bottle on the vanity. “But…” He frowned. “I’ve worn this almost every day since we met.”

Christine managed a weak smile despite the nausea. “Apparently your baby disagrees. Please wash it off, or I don’t think I can survive the drive to work.”

A laugh escaped Jeff before he raised both hands in surrender. “Fair enough. The baby’s rules.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, he emerged wearing a fresh shirt, his wrists and neck scrubbed clean with unscented soap, and his suit jacket draped over one arm. He stopped several feet away. “How about now?”

Christine took a careful breath. Nothing. No overwhelming scent. No nausea. Relief softened her shoulders.

“Much better.” She walked over and rested both hands against his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Jeff glanced toward the bathroom. “I’ve officially lost a ten-year relationship with that cologne.”

Christine laughed. “Sorry.”

Jeff raised an eyebrow. “No, you’re not.”

Her smile turned mischievous. “I’m really not.”

He chuckled and slipped his arms gently around her waist. “If the baby says no cologne, then I guess I’m officially fragrance-free for the next few months.” He kissed her forehead. “My greatest sacrifice so far was the mango expedition.”

She laughed. “And I appreciated that too.”

“I noticed.” He smiled. “The empty plate gave it away.” They shared another quiet laugh before finally heading toward the door.

The drive to the office was peaceful. Without his signature cologne filling the car, Christine settled comfortably into her seat, one hand resting protectively over her growing baby bump while the soft morning sunlight spilled through the windshield. Within minutes, Jeff guided the car into the executive parking garage beneath CJ Corporation. Together, they crossed the lobby toward the private executive elevators. As they passed the lobby café, Jeff slowed.

“Coffee?”

Christine smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

They stepped up to the counter, where the familiar aroma of freshly brewed espresso filled the air. Jeff smiled at the barista. “Large black coffee, please.” Then he turned to Christine, his hand settling naturally against the small of her back. “And for you?”

Christine glanced briefly at the menu. “A small iced decaf mocha, please.”

Jeff smiled. “Decaf.”

Christine nodded. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Good.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m learning.”

The barista smiled as she prepared both drinks. A few moments later, Jeff wrapped one hand around his steaming coffee while Christine accepted her iced decaf mocha. She took a small sip—perfect.

As they walked toward the executive elevators, Jeff intertwined his fingers with hers. The elevator doors slid closed, shutting out the noise of the busy lobby. For a brief moment, it was just the two of them.

Jeff glanced at her cup. “So…”

Christine looked up. “So?”

“Any strange cravings this morning?”

She pretended to think about it. “Not yet.”

He nodded with exaggerated relief. “Excellent. I’d like at least one full night’s sleep before our next emergency food mission.”

She laughed. “I make no promises.”

“I figured.”

The elevator chimed softly as the doors opened onto the executive floor. Still holding hands, they stepped out together, already talking about the work waiting for them. Neither of them knew that years later, this ordinary morning would become one of the memories they would both hold closest.