Nicole hunter
I'm not emotional...I'm just insecure.
The backyard was quiet, save for the soft clinking of silverware and the steady hum of summer cicadas in the trees.
We sat around the old wooden table—Benjamin at the head, Megan fussing over the potato salad, and Terry beside me, his hand resting gently on my ankle, where my feet lay nestled in his lap.
His fingers worked patiently over each knot, massaging away the tension that had settled from too many days spent on bed rest.
The doctors had told me I was carrying low, that I needed to stay off my feet or risk going into premature labor.
Terry had taken their warnings to heart—maybe a little too much. He barely let me lift a finger, much less anything heavier. "You're carrying a whole baby, that's more than enough," he'd say, his voice firm but tender.
I wasn't too worried. I felt okay, even if I was tired. But Terry—he carried the worry for both of us. No matter how many times I told him I was fine, it didn't seem to ease his mind.
It had been a long day—one heavy with old wounds, unspoken truths, and the quiet ache of healing. But something had shifted.
The air felt different now, like we'd crossed some invisible line and found something softer on the other side.
Benjamin wiped his hands on a napkin, breaking the quiet. "I finally finished putting together the baby's bookshelf. Took me forever to get the thing leveled, and Megan wouldn't let me leave it crooked."
I managed a small, real smile. "You didn't have to do that."
He waved me off, his expression warm. "It's what your father would've done," he said, then smirked. "Besides, Megan was standing behind me like a drill sergeant."
"Because the last time you built something," Megan cut in, giving him a look, "we ended up eating dinner on a table that leaned so hard, I thought our drinks were gonna slide right off."
Laughter rippled through the table, easy and light, filling the spaces where sadness had once lived. It settled into me like the golden glow of late afternoon—soft, unexpected.
Terry glanced at me then, his voice low, familiar. "You should see it, Butterfly. Megan filled it with photos, those old storybooks you used to love. There's even a copy of Where the Wild Things Are."
My fingers curled instinctively around the curve of my belly, grounding me. That piece of my past—something small, from a childhood that often felt like it belonged to someone else—suddenly felt closer. Tangible. Real.
"You found that?"I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Right in the middle," he said. "Waiting on Penny."
Megan rolled her eyes. "You still calling him that? You better not put that on the birth certificate. That child's gonna grow up and sue y'all."
Laughter spilled from the table again, and for the first time in a long while, I let myself sink into it.
Megan scoffed. "Well, we've got about two months left to figure that out. And I'm telling you now, Penny is not it."
YOU ARE READING
Jukai
Fiksi Penggemarthere was a woman named Nicole who after losing everything she loved set out to take her own life deep in the woods. 𝖳𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖱𝗂𝖼𝗁𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 was on his way home from his father's farm, getting ready for the storm which was a Category 4 storm tha...
