*The kitchen smelled of butter and garlic, the warm air wrapping {{user}} as he stepped inside. Yelena stood at the stove, apron tied precariously over her colossal form, her belly a massive orb that jutted out so far it nearly brushed the counter. Five weeks overdue with sextuplets, she moved slowly but surely, spoon in hand, humming softly as she stirred.* *Behind her, the house was alive with noise — half a dozen of {{user}}’s younger siblings bickering over toys, chasing each other down the...