The New One ➳ The Selection trilogy sequel [discontinued]

» Chapter One

9 Months Later: America's Point of View

My stomach grumbles softly and not-so-aggressively, though it's enough to wake me, beads of sweat trickling down my forehead. I swear, being pregnant is the worst - and best, at times - so-called 'blessing' that can happen to anyone. I start to get muscle spasms, and my eye starts to twitch as my stomach grumbles more. I roll out of bed, crashing on the floor stupidly. The mediumly-loud thump my not-so-accidental fall makes wakes Maxon up. 

"Wha-?" he stirs, confused. He rubs his eyes and notices me sprawled on the floor. "America, you okay?" he says sleepily yet concerned, half-pulling his duvet off but not sitting up straight.

"No, I am not okay," I say crossly, crossing my arms grumpily. "I am pregnant, I just made myself fall on the floor, our baby is probably dead already because of that, and I'm hungry." I furrow my brows, and my stomach grumbles again, which doesn't help. It's been like this for the past week - ever since the start of my pregnancy, really. Midnight cravings, mood swings, dark circles under my eyes that's barely hidden by concealer, no matter how much my makeup artists dab on me. I hate to hassle Maxon, but it's not my fault - it's normal for any pregnant woman, according to the various articles I browsed through and read on PregnancyFactNet.com during my early-pregnancy weeks. 

"What do you want to eat?" Maxon pulls himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes blearily. The loss of covers on his body has my eyes laid on his 6-pack, tanned skin, and smooth, defined muscles. Tempting is the only word I can use to describe what's in front of me right now. 

I tear my eyes away from his stomach with difficulty. I comprehend on what the baby might want for a few minutes before finally settling on glazed bagels. 

Maxon helps me onto the bed, smiles, and places a hand over my 9-month bulge. I tried to sit up and maintain good posture, but doing so sends stabs of pain shooting down my back. 

"I'll be right back, sweet." He kisses the tip of my head - just like in those cliche romance movies! - and grabs a white bathrobe from our (walk-in) closet. He wraps his body with it and goes out to get me some bagels.

The thought of the glazed beauties sends my mouth watering - how un-royally! - as sugar-filled thoughts cloud my mind. Maxon had better make it quick or I might as well flip out here and right now in this bed.

To distract myself from my hunger and thoughts of sweets, I lay my eyes on the wall directly in front of Maxon and my bed - the wall on which we had artistically created a collage of pictures of us, as well as certificates and random sweet notes and rose petals. I smile at the pictures, which can only be barely seen due to the lack of light. I drink in all of the pictures, reminiscing the memories that come with them. To the very left is a picture with both of us eating popsicles the day after we had removed the castes. I chuckle softly, remembering how Lance, my new bodyguard, had freaked out over how I had spilled gloppy popsicle all over my royal white dress. 

Next to that picture is the one that was taken after I had told him I was pregnant and he had gotten me four balloons: one pink, one orange, one blue, and one red.

The one below that one is the picture snapped after I had my three-month-baby check up at the doctor's. The obgyne had placed a probe on my abdomen, and on the screen was the ultrasound, showing a small, curled-up figure - a girl, the doctor had said. I had been so delighted! 

Maxon walks in, breaking my train of thought as he gently sets down a tray with a mug of tea and a platter lined with glazed bagels - cue the mouth watering - on the bed. "Here you go, Am!" Maxon says cheerfully, grabbing a bagel for himself and ripping a chunk off with his teeth.

"Thanks," I prop up as best as I can without wincing in pain and lay my back on the big, fluffy white pillows lining our bed's headboard. 

"You've been eating loads of sweets every midnight for weeks, Am. You're going to become an obese diabetic one day," Maxon teases, inching closer to me, and I playfully hit his arm. 

"Well, then, I'll have you know, Maxon, that as a matter of fact, I won't become obese, because if I eat anything else besides what this child craves, I end up upchucking them in the toilet. Therefore, all o the food I eat goes to my child and not to me." I remark. It's true, anyway; If I end up eating something I feel like my child doesn't  crave, it would always end up out of my system and flushed down the toilet into God's ocean. I frown at the thought for a second. 

From the corner of my eye, I notice Maxon reaching to snatch another glazed bagel, and I slap his hand away.

"Nuh-uh, Mister. No bagels for you." 

"Aw, come on! Why not?" he complains whilst pulling his adorable puppy-eyed pout look, and it takes all of my emotional, mental, and humanly strength to not give in and shove the whole platter at him.

So instead, I laugh. 

"You don't want your baby to starve, do you?" 

Maxon stops his look for a moment, as if contemplating this. "Fine." he finally gives in. "Anyting for both of you." He bends down and places a soft kiss on my stomach, which sends loving chills up my spine. 

I love how he's always so affectionate and caring. It helps ease my angry mood swings at times.

"Hey, Maxon, I just realized something." I say whilst eating my fifth glazed bagel - yes, that's right, fifth. I can't help my cravings.

"You just realized that you'd be generous and share some of your bagels with me?" he hopefully says, although I hear the laugh in his voice. I giggle, but I shake my head. "No, not really. I was just thinking that I would be giving birth probably next week. I might even give birth tomorrow. Today, really, since it's 12:37 a.m." 

"I know, I have the guards prepared."

"You're overreacting." 

He's silent for a while before he notices that the platter is empty now. I gulp down my now-cold tea and set it on the tray. Maxon snuggles under the covers and pulls them further over us. I slide down beside him, wiping my mouth on my shirt. Maxon's voice breaks the silence.

"Goodnight, baby." 

"Goodnight." 

Then I close my eyes and let the darkness envelope me as I slip into a deep slumber. 

1224 words! Since when have I started writing this short? I used to write 4-page long chapters! 

School stress is getting to me. How's life, readers? Everything going fine for all of you there? Got any problems? I'm failing Math, and if I do, my mom's not gonna let me attend my every-summer camp, so that's a big problem for me :( 

- Wendy