He Loves Me... She Loves Me Not

Chapter Twenty-three

"I can't deal with this drama! Let's go, Jessy. Let's leave if no one is going to listen to us," he exclaimed in frustration.
 
Our encounter left me feeling both frustrated and determined to assert my autonomy. It was a stark reminder of the cultural and familial tensions that existed within our relationship.
 
Hearing this, my parents shared their own reservations about Scott's family's intentions, recognizing that his visit was driven by ulterior motives rather than genuine concern for my pregnancy. Nevertheless, I found comfort in the support of Scott's mother, understanding that, as a mother herself, she could empathize with my emotions. Though I appreciated her understanding, I refused to internalize Scott's father's disparaging remarks. His negativity held little significance to me, as I recognized that it stemmed from his disapproval of me as his son's partner.
 
While Scott was still away and we often conversed in phone calls or video chats, I found myself increasingly troubled by unsettling dreams each night. With a heavy load on my shoulders, I felt a lack of sympathy from anyone but my parents, who I knew were also deeply concerned for me. Amidst the bustling activity surrounding my maternity shoot preparations, as I and Scott have already scheduled to do so, David came to my rescue as he approached me and greeted me with a rather insensitive comment. "Hey there. I never knew pregnancy could turn you into a dragon again. A rather chubby dragon. You look terrible."
 
His words hit me hard, but I understood where they were coming from. "I don't blame you. It's difficult to navigate this pregnancy journey without the support of someone who would have stood by you while encountering ridicule and put-downs from those who despise you."
 
"I get it. Your parents filled me in on what happened at your house last week. It must have been a rough time. Why don't you reach out to Scott?"
 
"I don't want to burden him with my own issues. Besides, when we talked on the phone, he sounds happy. I wouldn't want to dampen that joy by bringing up problems with his father."
 
"He'd do anything for you. Because if not, I'll break his nose," he said with a smirk.
 
I found myself thinking the same question. I wondered why, even though we've reconciled and are together again, it seems like the world is still against us. It's as if, despite my desire for happiness, others are unwilling to see us happy. I truly hope that one day I will muster the strength to disregard others' opinions, but I suspect it will be a gradual process.
 
David stayed with me until we returned to my house after the maternity shoot, captivated by the enchanting cowboy-themed maternity photos that I and Scott would've captured together. We were eager to share the images on my social media accounts for my fans and Scott's. But the next morning, as I reached for my phone to call him, a text from David prompted me to check my social media accounts.
 
Little did I know that my photos had garnered an abundance of likes and hearts. However, when I delved into the comments section, I was bombarded with inquiries from netizens wondering about Scott's absence in the pictures and why he wasn't tagged in any of the uploaded photos. The questions extended to whether we were separated, leaving me disheartened and overwhelmed.
 
In my dismay, I decided to remove my posts and retreat into silence within the confines of my room. I turned off my phone, in my isolation, for the entire day until nightfall, when Scott finally returned home. My energy was depleted; I lacked the strength to engage with people, discuss my day, or even muster the motivation to leave my bed. The nagging thoughts plagued me, questioning if I had once again erred in some way, leaving me pondering the relentless challenges of life.
 
Scott stepped into the room, and as he sat wearily on the edge of the bed, I could see just how exhausted he'd been from a week of non-stop work. But there was something else there, something troubling him, too. He gazed at me without saying a word, his expression a mix of seriousness and maybe even a hint of pity, and began to stroke my burgeoning, pregnant belly. After a moment, he let out a deep sigh, his eyes searching mine as if he didn't quite know where to begin.
 
"I saw the maternity pictures. Why did you delete them?" he asked softly.
 
I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I don't know. Maybe they're just ugly. I look awfully ugly."
 
"Danni," Scott's voice gentled, concern evident in his tone. "I can see when something's bothering you. It's written all over your face and those eyes of yours that are on the verge of tears. Tell me what's eating at you, babe."
 
"I don't know. It's like... you know... it's like everyone hates the idea of me being happy. Like I'm the worst partner you've ever had. Like I'm just embarrassing," I murmured, the unease weighing heavily on me.
 
I was unable to contain my frustration, and I found myself shedding tears like a child who had strayed but had no ill intentions. I have always prided myself on being a strong woman, but in the presence of Scott, his gaze seems to give me permission to be vulnerable time and time again and to express my emotions openly, but I despise it. I don't want him to witness my pain or to witness this unfamiliar side of me because it doesn't feel like the real me. This isn't me.
 
Then he drew me close, kissing my forehead just the way I needed. Scott was there, and that was enough. Suddenly, he took some of the maternity shoot photos and shared them on his social media, showing everything to his own followers and shutting down the negativity from our critics, who were quick to judge those simply trying to live their lives and find happiness. I was incredibly grateful that he did that. It meant so much to me, and my love for him only deepened.