𝕥𝕠𝕠 𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕖 • 𝕞.𝕔

chapter 31

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"Fuck, fuck, and fuck off," I muttered to myself, turning in the bed. But at the last moment- I realised I couldn't move without waking Michael up. This huge belly was really starting to get on my nerves.

   The last visit at the doctor's had been running through my mind non-stop for the past week. As we were getting closer to the delivery date, all I could think about was the pain that I would get through then. I wanted to get the epidural, in the hope that this would be easier for me. But who was I trying to kid? I would get a baby through my freaking vagina, for Goodness' sake. That wasn't poetic, that probably was not the right way to talk about it either, but it was real. I would die on the spot, I was sure. Right under Michael's eyes.

   I was legitimately terrified of it all; the thought of it made my head ache at night, and I had told the doctor that I had trouble sleeping because of it, and he had said that it was normal. But I was tired, and afraid, and stressed. I was on edge, and now, I understood why pregnant women were so pissy near the end. Because I sure as hell was one, now, and I was just fearing that on this day, November the 17th, I would be a crying and blubbering mess. I didn't want that. I wanted to get through this head high, but I was pretty sure that I'd end up sobbing as soon as my water would break.

   I felt Michael's hand brushing against my back. He was fast asleep, I could tell by his breathing. He was lovely, so lovely, and as time went by, I realised that these feelings that we were feeling weren't fake. They were very real, and feeling a connection this genuine was all I needed. 

With him, I was always laughing. I was enjoying every minute that we spent together. All of those times that he could've left; he just hadn't. He had stayed through most things, and I was lucky that I had found someone who had taken the time to memorise me, who knew what I wanted to do, what my dreams and fears were. And I was so thankful, I couldn't start to explain it.

   Through the Emma situation, he'd been here. When I was angry, and when I was awful to him, he'd stayed, making me know that he didn't care if I was angry. It felt real. Realer than anything else, now, I was certain of it. We both knew it deeply, and words couldn't express it, now. He felt like home. But that was what love was; it was coming home. 

"Aren't you sleeping?" I could hear him mumbling, placing a kiss on my back.

"I can't," I whispered. "Did I wake you up?"

"No, I felt you weren't sleeping," he yawned. He started touching my hair, which made me relax. "Go to sleep, Lee."

"I love you," I said.

"I love you more," he simply replied, before falling asleep. Just like that.

•••

"Okay, go to the left a little... Yeah, here, perfect," I smiled, as Michael hung up a poster in the baby's room.

"It looks perfect," I breathed. "Imagine."

"I know," he approached me, and watched what he had just hung up from my point of view. "It looks great."

"It really does."

"Well," he put his arm around me, hesitantly, just like the first time. "I hope it's a boy."

"I hope it's a girl!" I replied, slapping his chest playfully. "I can't picture myself with a baby boy."

"I can't picture myself with a baby girl!"

"You're gonna have to," I smiled. "Next week is the 36 weeks appointment, and I really want you to be here. As well as the thirty eight weeks."

"I will."

"You promise?" I asked. "I haven't really asked you to come to the appointments if they weren't scans, but I really... I really need you, now."

"I promise."

"Pinky promise?" I offered him my pinky, and he intertwined it with his.

"Pinky promise, Lee Mann," he whispered, before kissing my forehead.

•••

short chapters i'm sorry I suck haha