Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 138

Chapter 138 – Mama Lune vs. The Nation’s Hottest Congressman

— Miexha’s POV —

Sometimes, I stare at myself in the mirror and wonder:
Was I a world-renowned musician… or a full-time incubator?

Because honestly, even my bandmates don’t call me “Littlelune” anymore.
They call me Mama Lune.

My belly was already huge—and I was only five months in. How was this even possible? Shellie just turned eleven months.

I sulked dramatically in my pink robe, sinking into the plush velvet couch in our stupidly enormous mansion, watching a livestream of Xymph’s World Tour Concert—without me.

The camera panned across my bandmates:
Sonata flipping his purple hair like he just discovered gravity,
Musika wearing an electric green bucket hat she swore was ironic,
Echojam doing deranged eyebrow dances,
Bluechord vibing too hard for someone with three guitar solos,
And Nightingale? Hitting god-tier high notes.

It should’ve been me on that stage.

“LITTLELUNE OF XYMPH MISSES TOUR AGAIN DUE TO PREGNANCY,” the scrolling banner mocked across the bottom of the screen like a digital slap.

I groaned theatrically and shifted my swollen belly while cradling Shellie, who napped like a peaceful little traitor on my chest.

Then came a photo from Asha—freshly graduated pharmacist, honorary chaos twin, and traitor number two—posing in the VIP lounge with a cocktail and perfect lashes. Caption?

“You should’ve locked your bedroom door, sis 😏”

RUDE.
Not wrong. But rude.

Jamie, my genius firstborn, skipped into the room holding a paper crowned with a giant gold sticker: TOP 1.

“Mommy! I’m number one again!” she beamed, climbing up beside me.

“At least someone in this house is being productive,” I sighed, kissing her forehead.

And right on cue…

The door opened.

And there he was.
The cause of my roundness.
The man responsible for my permanent glow-in-the-dark cheeks.
The shameless culprit who turned me from rockstar to certified baby factory.

Congressman Jayson Dom.

Looking disgustingly good in a tailored suit, that smug-boy smile on his face, and those dumb puppy eyes that still made me forgive him for everything.

“How’s my gorgeous wife?” he grinned, sitting beside me and placing a hand on my belly.
“Or should I say… super mommy of three?”

“Jayson.”
“Yes, dear?”
“Do you realize I’ve basically been pregnant for two. straight. years.?”

“You make beautiful babies,” he said proudly, like this was a compliment.

“I was supposed to be on stage right now! Screaming with fifty thousand fans! Not sitting here growing another human being because you think your only job at night is population control!”

He laughed, completely unfazed.
“You’re still performing! You’re a TV judge now. You slayed last week.”

“Not the same as screaming in neon lights next to Musika’s dumb hat!”

“But you do scream a lot when we—”

“DON’T. FINISH. THAT. SENTENCE.”

He bit his lip, trying not to laugh.