After the Storm

Part 1

Things had been...quite not as they were before. 

I had stretch marks in places where I hadn't before. 

No Lilly, they're just tiger stripes. You're an ifrit after all, the fieriness had to show somewhere. 

Not that I cared or anything. 

Well, maybe just a little. My mouth did have the tendency to slack a bit whenever I saw Mr. Ambrose bare-chested, something he wouldn't be terribly excited about. He didn't like slackers. 

But right now, all I felt was warmth in my heart, when I saw him sway from side to side, cradling our baby in the embrace of his strong arms. Our little Qwerty, kept me awake all night and made me fall asleep in the morning when I had important business to do. 

Just like his father. 

Mr. Ambrose slightly looked my way, and I quickly shut my eyes. If he knew I was awake, It would be me standing there instead of him, and I was already dog-tired. Also, even after several negotiations, I had failed to convince him to pay me for overtime. 

Qwerty had been crying since the morning. Did I cry that much when I was a little potato? probably not, not sweet and chirpy little me who made the day of anyone she met. There had to be some reason my parents named me Lilly, right? 

I couldn't fathom Mr. Ambrose as a child. After he was born, he probably would have given the doctor one of his silent, cold looks so that his mother could have been discharged early, giving him much-needed time to quickly grow and make money. 

While I mulled over the thoughts of a brooding baby Ambrose, the sheets behind me lifted and a strong arm pulled me into a granite chest. 

"Mrs. Ambrose." 

I pretend to snore. 

"I know you're awake" 

Dang it! I sighed and turned around to face him. "How did you know?" 

His stone face gave nothing away, but his eyes softened just a bit, "You seemed to be palpating your stomach under the blanket. Does it hurt?" 

Boy did it hurt. Giving birth to Qwerty might have been the hardest thing I had ever experienced. During the process, Mr. Ambrose had grown so agitated he had started to shout at everyone, even at the cat near the sink. He had gone so loud for a second I thought he was giving birth as well. 

"Well, no," He gently tucked my hair behind my ear, "I was just- ahem. It's nothing." 

"Tell me," He ordered, peering into my eyes in a way that made me hot all over. 

"It's nothing, really. How's Qwerty doing?" I did not want to tell him how self-conscious I felt about how my derriere had become even more generous than before, or how my belly seemed to protrude in a way that had never before. Firstly, it was natural, and there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Secondly, he'll probably make me work my butt off when I return to the office. 

If I returned to the office. Which seemed to be so far on the horizon, I had to squint to see the possibility of me going back before Qwerty was the age of speaking. 

"We will not. Name. Our. Child. Qwerty." He gritted through his teeth. 

"Sure, sure," I yawned, "I have come up with a spiffing list of names that you can go through in the morning." 

There was a pregnant pause, "I dread waking up then." 

I punched him in his hard, unchanged, spectacular chest, "Shut up and go to sleep." 

I closed my eyes. A second later, I felt his fingers trail down my arm. I almost flinched. 

"Ahem- I-Well, it was a busy day, and Qwerty can wake up anytime-" 

"So why not stay awake?" 

"-And we should probably catch some Zs before tomorrow, right? You said a very important meeting was going to be held tomorrow." I gave him my best glare, "It better take place here, or else your workplace will have the honor of hearing Junior Ambrose wails through the hall with a haggard-looking Mr. Linton carrying him on his back."

For a teeny tiny second, I thought if he would put up a fight against it. I already had a manifesto present as to why and how I will be able to maintain my position as a mother as well as his secretary, with an appeal to place a tiny cradle in his office. 

But I also knew the reality of the situation. And with all that I was experiencing, he had a good chance of guilting me into whatever utter poop logic he came up with. 

He didn't though. He barely nodded. Behind the intensity of his eyes, a storm was brewing. But before I could say something, he kissed me gently on the forehead, and hugged me close. 

"Goodnight, Mrs. Ambrose." 

***

Greetings people. 

How did you like the first part?