Week 9: The placenta is taking shape. It's producing all the progesterone needed for pregnancy and vital nutrients to the embryo. The embryo is about 2.3 centimetres and about 15 grams, as big as a green olive.
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Hazel’s POV
“Babe, do you think I should check on the lasagna now? I don’t want it to burn.”
Her voice carried that familiar whine—half anxiety, half excitement—and I couldn’t help myself. I giggled.
“You checked it five minutes ago,” I said gently. “Relax. You won’t mess it up.”
She nodded, but I could tell she was still nervous, pacing slightly in front of the oven like it might explode if left unattended.
“I just want Ky to be proud of me,” she admitted softly. “She’s always told me to learn how to cook but I always thought I didn’t need to.”
I studied her for a second, this girl who had been handed everything in life except self-confidence. Megan Miller was easily the most spoiled person I’d ever known—so spoiled she couldn’t even make an omelette. Her parents had loved her loudly, generously… maybe too generously.
“Why do you think you need to now?” I asked.
She sighed, leaning against the counter.
“I don’t know. I just hate seeing you doing everything for both of us. Making the bed. Cleaning. Cooking. I mean, I can’t even compile a grocery list yet I want to be an event planner.”
I laughed softly.
“Event planning isn’t about house chores,” I reassured her. “And besides, you’re great at organising your clothes. That’s a good start.”
She chuckled, then grew quiet.
“It’s still not the same. I suddenly feel like… sometimes I’m useless.”
“Weeeeeellllll,” I teased.
She glared at me.
I laughed quickly and pulled her closer, kissing her lips before she could protest.
“Hey. It’s not too late to change. You’re making dinner now. That’s not being useless.”
Her smile returned instantly, bright and genuine.
“You’re too sweet. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, babe.”
I smiled back, warmth spreading through my chest.
Kyla was right.
Megan was everything I could ever dream of.
“You started by being beautiful,” I said.
She laughed, her melodious voice sending goosebumps across my skin.
“I think you’re mocking me. Have you seen yourself?”
She always said I was the beautiful one, but to me, Megan was perfection in motion—effortless, radiant, intoxicating.
“Right,” she said playfully. “Are you sure you mean it? I’m the girl who sometimes wears glasses, remember?”
“And also the one who turns me on like crazy when she has those glasses on,” I whispered.
Her grin turned wicked.
“All of a sudden I feel like I should put them on.”
She giggled, then our lips met.
Without hesitation, she climbed onto me, pressing my back into the couch cushions. She paused only long enough to silently ask permission before slipping her tongue into my mouth, claiming it boldly.
YOU ARE READING
Weight of The Untold
RomanceIn a world where wealth hides wounds and silence is currency, Kyla is carrying more than anyone knows. Behind oversized hoodies and carefully guarded smiles, she holds a secret powerful enough to change everything-one she's been forced to protect in...
