Outside Work We... •[TNN One-shots]•

Marks •|| MARJOREECE ||•

Prompt: Marjorie noticed stretch marks on her thighs.

Marjorie stood in front of the mirror, her towel wrapped tightly around her torso. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the bathroom window, painting golden patterns on the tiles. She had only intended to moisturize her legs, a small act of self-care, but as her eyes drifted down to her thighs, she froze.

The faint silvery streaks stared back at her like little whispers of imperfection. They weren't new. They'd been there for a while, but today, they seemed louder, sharper, more obvious.

Her chest tightened. The stretch marks reminded her of everything her body had endured—every pound gained, every curve shaped by time and life. But instead of pride for the strength of her body, all she felt was embarrassment.

She sighed and pulled on a pair of leggings, covering up before heading into the bedroom. As she rifled through her wardrobe, her hand paused on a sundress she had planned to wear tomorrow for lunch with Reece. The thought of her thighs being visible to the world—or worse, to him—made her stomach churn.

Marjorie shook her head and shoved the dress back into the closet, grabbing a pair of jeans instead. For days after, she wore nothing but long skirts, pants, and opaque tights. Reece didn't seem to notice at first; he rarely commented on her outfits, trusting her to always look stunning. But then, on a rare morning off, when they were lounging in the living room, his curiosity finally piqued.

"You're hiding from me," he said with a teasing grin, his tone light but his gaze focused.

She raised an eyebrow, pretending not to understand. "What are you talking about?"

"You used to wear those cute little shorts around the house. Now it's leggings and sweaters, even when it's hot." He shifted closer to her on the couch, his head tilted in that boyish way that made it impossible for her to lie.

Marjorie sighed and tried to wave him off, but Reece wasn't so easily deterred. "Come on, Marj. What's going on?"

"It's nothing," she mumbled, pulling her knees up to her chest.

He didn't respond immediately, just waited, his hand lightly brushing against hers until the silence felt heavier than her shame.

"It's stupid," she finally whispered, her voice barely audible. "I noticed some stretch marks on my thighs, and I didn't want you to see them. I don't even know why. It's not like you've ever said anything to make me feel... less than."

Reece frowned, his brow knitting together in genuine confusion. "Stretch marks? That's what's been bothering you?" He moved closer, gently prying her arms away so he could take her hands in his. "Marj, those marks are just proof that your body's been through life. They don't make you any less beautiful."

She didn't respond, her eyes fixed on the floor, so he cupped her chin, tilting her face to meet his gaze.

"I mean it," he said softly. "You could cover up every inch of yourself, but it wouldn't change how much I love you. You're stunning, Marjorie. Always."

Her chest ached with the weight of his sincerity. Slowly, she let herself believe him, let his words chip away at the wall she'd built around her vulnerability.

"Do you want to see them?" she asked hesitantly, her voice shaky.

Reece's face softened even more. "Only if you're okay with that."

She nodded, pulling up the hem of her leggings just enough to reveal the faint streaks she'd tried so hard to hide. He reached out, his fingers brushing over the marks like they were the most natural thing in the world.

"They're beautiful," he said simply, his touch featherlight. "You're beautiful."

Marjorie let out a shaky laugh, tears pricking at her eyes. "You're such a sap."

"Only for you," he teased, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

From that moment on, the stretch marks didn't feel so loud anymore. They were just a part of her, one she could accept with time. And with Reece's unwavering love by her side, Marjorie started to believe she could wear whatever she wanted again—shorts, sundresses, anything.

And maybe, just maybe, she'd even love herself a little more.