Regal [h.s]

Chapter Forty Seven

"I'll just sit back while you run the show, is that good for you? Would that be good for you?"

♔ ♔ ♔

Amalia

I was so tired. Tired beyond saving. Tired beyond a few hours sleep. In fact, I was barely sleeping at all.

I wasn't so worried about Anne anymore, Harry had spoken to her and she had assured us both she was safe but Damien can be a little unpredictable at times. We were still checking in on her every morning and afternoon, inviting her over for lunch or dinner, Cosy was slowly warming up to her but she still mostly stayed stuck beside Harry and I.

She was always in the back of my mind, but she wasn't the reason for my sleepless nights.

The sleepless nights had a lot to do with our little lady who had started kicking up a storm inside of me within the past few days. We were nearly half way through our fifth month and she'd be here before we knew it.

Harry was ecstatic when I first told him I could feel her moving around in there, but then I saw how his excitement dissipated when he couldn't feel our baby girl from the outside just yet. I was sure it would happen soon enough though.

My bump was also growing, though I only looked slightly bloated. If anyone saw me, they'd probably just assume that I had had a little too much to eat. But I couldn't keep my hands off of my tiny tummy that was growing every day. I still found it a little awkward to talk to it, but I often found myself giving it a little prod to see if she would react, she often did.

So with my anxiety regarding Anne slowly dying down and my anxieties over our little girl seeming little to none, I thought that everything would be fine. The media were off our backs, James and Gemma hadn't sent us anymore threats over leaking our lives, there weren't cameras outside of our house. I thought it would be calm, I thought we could relax.

But there was something continuously niggling at my brain and telling me that something was wrong. Not with me or our baby, but it was like I was just waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I was waiting for disaster to strike.

I'd lay awake at night wondering when it was going to hit and how hard the blow would be. I'd stare out the window wondering what the next strike of bad luck was going to be.

I could feel like something was coming, something was on the horizon and I didn't like the uncomfortableness of it. I didn't like how life had become a painful waiting game of anticipating what the next pit of depression was going to be over, or waiting for one of us to break down and crumble into the floor.