Pov Lauren The morning after our wedding started perfect, even though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. The mere fact of having her there beside me, sleeping, beautiful as an angel, was enough to make me feel good. Her makeup, though weaker, remained perfect. Her hair was loose, and I tried to remember at what time last night I had undone her braid. The scent of almonds seemed weak compared to the natural scent his skin emanated. She was quiet, breathing slowly, and the up and down movement of her breast was a bit hypnotic. Even unconscious, Camila looked happy, and it made me feel so peaceful that I suddenly realized that I could spend the rest of my life there, watching her do nothing. But at some point she would wake up. And when that happened, I wanted to be prepared. It was funny how I felt willing to look like the best wife in the world to her, and equally funny was the fact that I thought it really could be. I had promised her - and myself - that I would take care of her forever, and always make her happy. It was one of the very few promises I'd ever made to anyone, and it might be the only one I'd actually keep. Against my will, I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom for a warm shower, being careful not to wake her. She still slept in the same position when I returned to the room. I chose a pair of sweatpants to wear and picked up our clothes, forgotten the night before, leaving right away. I went downstairs and made the best breakfast I could get, with apple and strawberry juices, toast, two kinds of jellies, pâté, chocolate and salt and water biscuits. I did not know where that came from, but I could only think that I had a finger of Taylor. I sat in the kitchen and ate distractedly, trying to remember all the details of our wedding party, but only managing to remember the same thing: She. And how wonderful she was. And how I felt when I saw her walking towards me, accepting me, accepting to be mine. And how everything seemed to revolve around her in a natural way. And how I loved her. I felt a silly longing suddenly, as if we'd been gone long enough. I put everything I could on a tray and went up with her into the room, not thinking if Camila had already woken up at that hour. To my happiness, she was lounging around the duvet like a gentle cat - and the best part: completely naked. For a long time all I could do was admire her from the door, with the tray still in her hand. I was happy when she made no mention of covering herself when she saw me there. - Good Morning. She whispered against the pillow, half-faced, staring at me with those perfect brown eyes. - Great day. I replied, leaving the tray on the mattress beside her and gently kissing her back. "Hungry, Mrs. Jauregui? She hid her face and let out a low laugh, but loud enough for me to hear and fall in love even more. - I am. Your daughter is fussing with my appetite. I did not know why everything she said made me melt, but hearing her refer to her belly that way definitely made me dumber than ever. When Camila turned upside down, I was overwhelmed by an immoral urge to grab her and fill her with kisses, but all I did was kiss her belly. "She walks very still ..." I started, my hand out there, and as if it were an answer to my finding, I immediately felt a tiny kick.- I think she wants to talk. "Well ... Good morning, Princess." When she felt another kick in response, she smiled involuntarily. It was clear she was not responding, but it was as if we were talking, and this little interaction between us was making me happy as a child on Christmas Eve. I leaned into Camila's belly and began to utter unimportant things, just to make my voice vibrate close to my daughter. Whenever I was silent, thinking about the next subject to approach, I felt a small kick as a protest to my silence, and then I would say something silly again. By this time, Camila had reached the tray and grabbed a toast to eat, probably hoping I would stop playing the crazy woman by talking to her navel. "I'm going to pretend I'm not feeling excluded from your relationship." She let go suddenly. - Are you jealous? I asked in amusement. "Of course I am. "Me or her?" - Both. I let out a low laugh, kissing her belly calmly. "When she's born, I promise we'll have our honeymoon late." And I promise to make up for this delay. "When she's born you will not be able to stay away from her." You think I do not know? "Well, that's true. But I think I can stay two or three weeks away if I'm going to be with you. I pointed kissing her belly again and forming a trail of kisses to a point near one of her breasts. - Know that I'm going to charge this. She spoke simply, a little flushed. I gently kissed the left beak, already slightly aroused. She laughed softly, and the light sound of her laughter made me feel a little happier. I played with my tongue in the other breast, still soft, and she giggled again. And every time she giggled I felt I loved her a little more. "You're making me overly romantic." I still spoke against his skin, resting my chin on her breast and smiling without reason. "It's not my fault if you're completely in love with me. She said playfully. "Of course it's yours." Who else would it be? "Yours, who were carried away by my charms." I laugh like a passionate pamonha, with no smart argument ready. She made a little force and pulled me off her. I rolled over to the side and let Camila get up, walking into the bathroom, and all I could do was stare at her natural, perfect swing like a pervert. - Hey, I gotta take a shower. She spoke with a slightly provocative smile as she turned again. "Will you help me?" - Um, it depends. Are you going to let me lather you or can I just watch? I asked just to ask. Whatever option she gave me, I would. "I'd love to be soapy." But you're going to have to rub it right ... "She did not have to finish the sentence. I was already standing by his side. *** FIFTH MONTH It was time to start putting things in order, little by little. Taylor, Oliver, Chris, and Ally were leaving for home, and I felt a little sad to see them leaving, since I was beginning to get used to their presence there. At the end of that Sunday, after all the farewells and tears, we only left Camila, me and my parents two blocks from us. I would start working in two weeks, so I had to get everything ready by then. And "getting it all done" meant leaving everything the way I thought it was good enough to go quietly and leave Camila alone. She was in the fifth month of pregnancy, and for some reason I was more afraid of leaving her now. I got a maid with my mother "borrowed" for our house, at least provisionally. She would take care of cleaning and tidying up everything, keeping Camila company and helping her with whatever she needed while I was gone. For the moment, I managed to persuade her to put aside the work I had promised to get her again when we moved to London. The pregnancy seemed to be tinkering with her priorities, making her lose some of the interest in spending the time she had been dealing with other things.In fact, after the wedding, that pregnancy became a priority of both her and mine. Now that everything had gradually returned to normal, it was curious to note how five months had gone by before we had even done a sonogram-or rather that I had allowed it, since my care was openly exaggerated. Maybe this had happened because I had spent half my time trying to organize things in the United States for our change to happen, and the other half creating the courage to ask Camila to marry her. Whatever the reason, it was time to take the necessary tests to start a proper follow-up to the pregnancy. Therefore, the visit to the obstetrician indicated by the old doctor was scheduled for the middle of that week. "Why are you so quiet?" I asked as I stopped the car at the red light. She did not answer, just shaking her head as if to say "for nothing." - She's nervous? Again she answered with a shake of the head, this time in affirmation. - Do not stay. I said, taking my free hand to his leg. "It'll be all right. That was really what I believed. Of course she was not completely calm, but neither was she nervous or scared. I was just anxious, simply because I knew that in a few minutes I would be seeing our daughter for the first time. She sighed, gripping my hand still without uttering a word. I turned on the car radio and set to play the cd recorded by me. She seemed to relax a bit with the piano melody, loosening slightly the grip her fingers made on mine. I drove a little faster, both in my anxiety and in the end to her anguish. By the time we were in the office, we were getting along, but if we had to wait anyway, at least we'd be sitting on the waiting sofa in the doctor's office. When we arrived, I asked her to sit down while I took care of the details of the appointment with the secretary. There were some women in front of us, some with their husbands and some not. Some bellies were grown, about the same size as Camilla's; others were much larger, and some were so smooth they did not even seem to be able to behave like a child. When I went to meet her, alone on a three-seater couch, she looked curiously at the bellies of others. "You're still the most beautiful girl. I spoke with a sweet voice to his ear, sitting beside him and extending an arm behind his neck. She just smiled, glaring at me with joy, but still nervous. "We should have done this before ..." "Things were very rough ..." I started, playing with a lock of her hair just to try to calm her down. "Usually this test is done three times: , in the middle and at the end of pregnancy. And if we had to opt for only one, the most appropriate would be what we're going to do now. So we're not too wrong. She continued to stare at me with a certain astonishment. "Have you been researching this?" "No ... It was my mother who said it. - Smile. She sighed, letting her head fall on my arm and closing her eyes. "I just want her to be okay ... I wanted to calm her down somehow, but I could not. I thought the best thing to do in that situation would be to leave her alone and stay by her side when she wanted to pull off some conversation. Nothing I said would help anything, and perhaps, as time went by, she would doze off. And that was what I thought had happened, at least until the moment when Camilla's name was called aloud, about an hour later, and she jumped to her feet, pulling me by the hand without even looking me.- Good afternoon, Mrs. and Mrs. Jauregui. I'm Dr. Lewis. I smiled alone, simply by hearing the doctor referring to her in that way. - Good afternoon. Much pleasure. I answered, shaking her hand. He was a middle-aged doctor, nice and seemed to be the kindest person in the world. But even her smile did not make Camilla less tense. "Is Mama nervous?" He released, analyzing her. - A little. She replied, smiling quickly. "Well, you do not have to. I'm sure everything will be okay with the baby. You can sit down. We did as the doctor said, going to accommodate us in front of his desk. When he started asking the basic questions, I informed him that this was the first ultrasound we would do, trying to explain the reasons for the delay. I introduced the blood tests ordered by the old obstetrician, said that we had already done a test that defined the sex of the baby, and I mentioned almost all the symptoms that Camila was having, since she was silent. "And she moves at times when she feels my hand." I said, more excited now. "Is it possible that she recognizes my touch?" - Of course yes. Not just your touch as your voice. She has already established a family relationship with you, and will recognize you when you hear her talking to her after birth as well. "Why does she only do this to her?" Camila's voice sounded low, as if she were ashamed to make it clear that she was jealous when she asked the question. "That's hard to say. She should interact more with her than you do, am I right? Of course he was right. She also had her moments of hypnosis with her own belly, but I just did not let go of her. I admitted to exaggerating, but since I did not care for the jokes, I never changed my attitude. "But you do not have to be sad," he finished, pulling me out of my reverie. "When she's born, you two will have a very strong bond, and believe me, unique. She will know who you are, and will love her in the same way. I did not doubt that. It was very difficult for someone not to love her. "But now, do not you want to take a look at the little princess?" My heart skipped a beat. Yes, that's exactly what I wanted. That was exactly what I had been waiting for, and knowing that the time had come was making me so anxious that it might be healthier to calm myself first. When we got to the other room, where the apparatus needed for the examination was arranged, Dr. Lewis helped Camila to lie down on the high, narrow bed while she gave us some details about the examination. "We're going to check the heart of your daughter, the limbs, the spine, and basically everything we can see. "Can we see it right?" I asked as he prepared the equipment. - As far as possible, yes. It is very difficult to see anything clearly, first because the images of the ultrasonography are somewhat dark and blurred, and second because it is very small still. Let's see the bones more clearly. "And you can not see her features or her skin?" I asked. - Has. 3D and 4D ultrasonographies show the fetus in a more concrete way, with features and skin. But what we can see depends on where it is. In addition, the most appropriate time is at the end of pregnancy, when everything is already well formed. "But can not we do it now?" I insisted, almost jumping with anxiety."Oh, yes, we can. It is what most couples prefer to do at the end of gestation. Maybe we can not see too many details, but if you want ... - We want to. I interrupted him at once. "Only the covenant does not pay-" "I'll pay for it. No problem. Camila did not say anything, lying on the bed and staring at the roof with her belly already out, probably trying to calm down. - Okay then. The doctor said, defeated, turning his attention to the device. I pulled out the first chair I found and went to sit next to it. I stared at the TV on our diagonal without blinking, because I knew that whatever appeared, it would appear there. When the unit was turned on, the picture looked just dirty and squeaky, as if there was no channel in tune. But as Dr. Lewis approached that gel-smeared device on Camila's belly, the images gradually formed. I could not define anything there, but I knew there was something moving. It was like ordinary ultrasound, in black and white, showing only a flat picture of something that was probably my daughter. "I can not see right ..." I spoke a little low, leaning closer to her as I tried to figure out what was being shown on the TV. At that moment, the black-and-white dynamic mass moved slightly, but enough to make me understand now what exactly I was facing. The shape of a tiny baby was clear, in a fetal position, on one side. You could see the little head, the belly, the limbs, even the curves of the mouth and nose. It was like facing a shadow of someone in profile, not exactly perfect, but visibly formed. "Look who's here ..." I heard the doctor's voice somewhere far from me, but I kept staring at the TV. I could not. That was my daughter, even dark, even blurred, even very barely visible. But it was my daughter. The image moved and stopped, repeating this process a few times. When it became static, I could see words like "foot", "leg", "head" and "belly" being typed on the screen, defining what parts we were looking at. But there was no need for caption, because I could see everything. Or almost everything. - Yes, yes ... It's really a girl. The doctor's voice sounded again, making the image move a little more. "A perfect girl." Yes. She was perfect, as far as I could see. It was absolutely perfect, and tiny. It was beautiful, and maybe I was not breathing at that moment. But it was when the doctor did something on that device, and suddenly the same old image appeared in high relief and yellowish, that probably everything in that room seemed to disappear around me. "And there she is, a little more visible now. If it was possible to identify the nose, mouth, and limbs before, now, by contrast, they were absolutely perfect. You could see the shape of the nose, still in profile, hands and legs. You could see your head moving in real time. You could hear and see the waves of your heartbeat at the bottom of the screen. It was possible to see her. Perfect. "Just a little longer ..." The image was moving, turning very slowly forward. The process was slow, but I made it a point to keep track of every millimeter, for fear of blinking and losing something. And then, just under a minute later, she was facing us, as if she knew she was being watched, posing nonchalantly to the camera. Her face was still there, still small, still thin, but perfect. Her right hand was under her tiny chin, as if she were thinking, or as if she were just leaning there. And when her small lips narrowed and she smiled-visibly smiled-I heard a sob beside me. Camz was bursting into tears, all red, covering his mouth with one hand. The other was clutching my fingers very tightly, and I only realized it at that moment. I was standing, and I did not know when I had dispensed with the chair I had pulled. The truth was that I was making almost titanic force not to cry like a baby as well.My vision was already blurred by the tears that my pride held back, and seeing her in that state was not helping me at all - I could not bear to see any woman cry, but seeing Camila crying could be ten times more difficult. I took a deep breath, still fighting the tears, and leaned over the bed to kiss her forehead. She was literally sobbing, and that would be my end. - How is she? She is fine? Is she perfect? His voice came out a little squeaky, trying to sound through the weeping and the whirlwind of emotions. - She is great! "Dr. Lewis said with a smile." There is no genetic problem and no malformation. She looks perfect, and apparently she's happy. I looked at the TV again and found that, as the doctor had said, she still smiled calmly, as if she was having a good dream. My daughter was fine, and nothing else mattered. - Let's take some pictures for you to take ... I kept staring at the TV, hypnotized by the image. Gradually she stopped smiling, but it was not enough to make me sad. She was relaxing, seemed to be falling asleep. When his two hands covered her small face, I had the impression she wanted quiet, and I felt obliged to stop watching her, if that was what she wanted. At the end of the examination, we ended up with about fifteen ultrasound images, showing the fetus in different positions. I fell in love particularly with the photo that showed her smiling, as if she knew that smile would cause us to melt. Camila stared at the images still sniffling, trying to stay strong and never cry again. Her eyes and nose were very red and a little swollen, and that made me want to hug her. - Are you all right? She asked in a slightly hoarse voice of newly controlled weeping. - Do not worry. She is great. I believe your pregnancy will be quiet. Let's follow the process closely to make sure everything goes well. From now on, the visits will be monthly. Let's take care of your anxiety. - Ok ... - If you feel any pain or some abnormal nuisance, do not hesitate to contact me. You do exercises? "No ... I can?" - Moderately and with the assistance of a specialist, it is even recommended. Do you have a pool at home? - Yes. - What do you think of water aerobics? "Could be ..." she replied, still distracted by the photos. - Great. Find a good teacher who is available. But remember, no exaggeration. Your body has limits, and you have to respect them. This will give you a much greater sense of well-being, and will help tone the muscles affected by pregnancy. "Okay ..." Dr. Lewis stood up, trying to remember some forgotten advice. As nothing came to mind, all he did was say goodbye. - I'll see you in a month. He punctuated, holding out his hand to us and greeting us. "Thank you, Doctor." I answered, still a little numb. My head ached with the strength I had made to keep from bursting into tears like Camilla, and only then did I realize that she was far smarter than I was at getting carried away by the emotion of the moment. She stood up and walked to the door in front of me, holding the photos as if holding a precious treasure. "Doctor," she said suddenly, turning to remember one thing. "How do I avoid the stretch marks that should appear on my breasts and my belly?" He opened the door for us, smiling as pleasant as ever. - Abuse of almond oil or moisturizer. I smiled to myself. That pregnancy would be sensational.*** - Love, look at this! I was a little too happy, and I knew it. Shop attendants laughed at me with gusto, perhaps because they'd never seen a first-time mom so excited. I thought it was a bore to choose my own clothes, but for some reason, looking at those tiny, colorful little clothes made me want to buy everything. Earlier that day, we had gone shopping for the change in Camila's wardrobe, choosing pieces that fit her. Now we were on the next stage: The clothes that would wear what was inside that belly. "Another pink piece?" - She asked. - Clear! She is a girl! Camila laughed at me. "Is that why she needs to wear only pink?" How about a white or light yellow? I looked at the piece of clothing she had on her hands and let go of the one I held. It was a white wool dress with embroidery, frills and colorful flowers. And it was smaller than my forearm. - Liked? - She asked. "It's beautiful ..." I said, turning to one of the women behind us. "What other colors are there?" "Besides white, we have lilac, red, and gray. "Can we take all four?" I asked close to her ear, making the face of an abandoned dog. "You know she's going to grow up before she can use all of them." I knew she was right. But my daughter was awakening my consumerist side. "We take one of them, you choose, and then we choose other models later. What about? She said, noting my obvious sadness. "Okay ..." One of the women watching us went to fetch the dresses as Camila turned to see other pieces on the hangers on the other side of the shop. Before I could join her, I was approached by one of the attendants who remained there. "First baby?" She asked, trying to sound casual. "Yeah," I replied, smiling. I could not not smile when I talked about my daughter. "We discovered that we would be mothers and married less than a week ago. "Ah ... It disturbs us a little when we are young and we have a lot of life to enjoy, do not we?" She released, making a pitying face that I did not understand. "No," I replied vehemently. "Actually, I do not think I could be happier than I am now. She smiled, trying to sound polite, though she was clearly annoyed by my comment. "Your wife seems to have been lucky then." The woman let go, already walking away, and even though it might have been just an impression, I noticed a certain twinge of venom in her voice. I stared at Camila from afar. She had her head down, parting colored clothes in her hands, but her eyes were on me. She was laughing, as if she were witnessing something funny, though I did not know why. - Here it is. I jumped in surprise with the voice behind me. When I turned around, one of the women offered me the dresses in the other colors. "Oh, thank you ..." "Are you from the United States?" She asked, smiling sympathetically. - How do you know? "From your accent." - Ah yes. My wife and I moved here just under two weeks ago. "Are they going to live here?" "Yes. I think I'm beginning to adhere to the English accent." I teased, trying to separate the dresses in my hands."Oh, do not do that. Your accent is incredibly sexy. She answered immediately, and I began to feel really embarrassed. When the silence grew unpleasant, Camila appeared beside me. "So, what are we taking?" She asked, looking good-natured. - The White. It's really the most beautiful. At the end of that first day of shopping, we took a good number of pieces, although I wanted some more. We ended up with some dresses, little pajamas and all sorts of fluffy things, tiny socks and gloves of various colors, warm and fluffy caps, little shoes and laces that drove me crazy just thinking about seeing them in my daughter, hooded bunny hoodies. For now, that was enough; But I still had four more months to convince Camz to buy more. "No, it's all very sweet." "I defended myself as we took the clothes out of the bags and stuffed them into the baby's closet." If I could, I'd bring everything. - That's the problem. You can. And that's why I have to be on your side, otherwise you buy everything you see ahead. She punctuated, hanging the last piece on one of the hangers. "We're going to buy some more things tomorrow." We still do not have baby bottles, pacifiers, towels, diapers, sheets, all those hygiene things ... "" We need to buy some more toys too ... "" WHAT? " - She exclaimed suddenly, and I was scared - More toys? Look around! "But what if she gets tired of these?" "Lauren, you do not need any more toys. If you tear a sheet of paper in front of her, she'll find the funniest thing in the world. - But not! She interrupted me, using an unheard-of tone in her voice. I gasped, but did not respond. "Can we at least buy those pet-shaped shampoos?" For her to have fun in the shower? She burst out laughing, and I started to feel stupid. - What is it? I asked a little bitterly. She came up to me and hugged me around the waist. "You're the sweetest thing I've ever known." "Hey, I'm not cute. I'm hot, fuck, devourer of XXT ... These things. - Ah yes. And you're getting hotter when you're excited. I narrowed my eyes and she laughed again. - Are you making fun of my face? - No. Ask those women who attended us today. - What about them? "Why, you're not naive. They were almost pulling their panties off their heads. I'm sure tonight everyone will dream of you making a child in them. "Uh ... And my enthusiasm like Mom has that effect on you?" I asked, hugging her from behind indiscreetly. - Of course it works. The difference is in the fact that I do not need to dream of you making a child in me. First because you already did, and second because when I want to know what it's like to have you inside me, all I have to do is jump on your lap. She gave an innocent smile, standing on tiptoe and kissing me affectionately before completing: "Random theirs, lucky me. To my jubilation, the fifth month of pregnancy made Camila's belly begin to grow with will now. The difference in the diameter of her abdomen was visible, and I was glad I did not have to say things like "you're not fat, you look beautiful." She did not seem to be too worried about the pounds she was gaining, and I could only find her softer than ever."My cheeks ..." She started. - What's with your cheeks? "They're huge and round. "You are, frankly, the loveliest thing I've ever seen. "Do not be a liar. She laughed, sounding unconcerned. "I'm over my weight and I can not stop sweating. - I'm not lying. I swear to God, you look delicious. She glared at me. "Lauren, can you not say things like that in front of your mother?" - Do not worry honey. "My mother spoke next to me, sitting on the sofa in her own living room as she flipped through a random magazine." I did not hear anything. Camila had already asked me to be discreet in front of others, but sometimes I just forgot that there was someone else with us. It was not on purpose. - I'm just being honest ... - I said a little bitterly. "And then ..." My father came into the room, offering me a dose of liquor. "Ready to go back to work?" We were on the Sunday, the eve of my return to the company. But this time in the same company as my father. "I think so ..." I tried to disguise my dismay. I did not want to make it clear that my desire at the moment was to stay at home all day taking care of my pregnant and my daughter, but people knew me very well. "Honey, it'll be good for you." "It's good to have a headache to lessen anxiety." And you do not have to worry, you know that Mila will not be alone. Emma will be there every day, and even in an eventuality, I'm two blocks from your house. "I know ..." I said, still a little discouraged. I did not want to explain that I did not know the maid so well so much as to entrust her to my wife's health, but if my mother had no objections to her work, it must have been because the woman was efficient. - You will see. Time will be much faster. - She continued, now turning to Camila - Mila, whenever you want another company, you can call me. I'm always here. - How nice! I'll call! Thank you, Clara. She replied with a smile. "How nice". It was as if everyone could have the opportunity to spend all day with my wife, but me. I felt like a punishment child, and I knew I was being an idiot. But knowing that was not enough to make me grow up. It would be hard to separate from her, especially since the symptoms of pregnancy began to appear more often now: She was visibly more tired, having cravings and aversions, pains in the back and legs, and severe nausea (which fortunately used to happen only in the morning ). If the distance already hurt me when she was not expecting my daughter, now that separation was making me a little hysterical, although I did not let it show up and ended up exploding sometimes. Anyway, I was hoping that my mother would be right after all: that getting my head on issues that were not related to pregnancy really did help my anxiety, not that it made me even more nervous. The first day of work had begun early and hectic. That was the parent company, where everything was bigger, more complicated and more detailed, which consequently meant more meetings, more people and more work. It was nice to have learned something from Allyson because, from that moment on, I knew that many things would be required of me, and even though I was not yet ready to take on great responsibilities, I was sure I was on the right track.It took the entire first week to familiarize myself with the dependencies and the big heads of the place. The people were nice there, they seemed to be more polite and less false than the ones I was used to dealing with in the United States. Or maybe it was just my state of mind. The downside of all - VERY negative - was that, most of the time, I was late arriving home. On some occasions, I found Camila sleeping quietly with the TV on, clearly trying to wait for me but not being able to. At times it did not happen, she was so sleepy that I felt guilty renting her to try to talk or have some of her company. This happened during the fifth month of pregnancy. SIXTH MONTH My mother was in charge of finding a water gymnastics teacher for Camila, and by the beginning of the sixth month she had already started taking classes. The teacher's name was Martha, she was 52 and would come to our house three times a week to work out with my wife in the pool. I kept working more than eight hours a day, struggling to spend as much time as possible with her and our daughter. I was starting to feel a little bad because my role as a mother could not be played the way I wanted to, but luckily things started to improve. "I think I'm being picky with you." I lifted my head absently from reading one of the five contracts deposited on my desk. My father had his hands in his pockets and a slightly guilty expression. - Because? I asked, genuinely curious. "You just got married." He did not even have a week right before going back to work, and it's coming too late for someone with a pregnant woman full of love to give up waiting at home. I laughed at the truths, mainly because I hoped for them to be followed by a "Take a Vacation!". But nothing was perfect, and neither would it be. "I want you here at the latest until 8:00 p.m. After that, consider being expelled from my company. - He said, already turning and going to take care of the problems that awaited him. "I'm not leaving for a minute!" I screamed for him to hear me, already outside - I'm serious! - Great! - I heard your voice echo from the hallway - You have five minutes to get out! I glanced at the laptop clock in front of me as I rose from my chair. He accused 19:56 p.m. "Four minutes, dear father. "I talked to myself, turning everything off anyway, and putting the papers in the drawer." Four minutes. *** Thanks to Michael Jauregui's benevolence, the end of my Friday was filled with the pleasant company of my wife, who, seeing me arrive earlier than usual (and being awake), showed herself, like him she had said, full of love to give. The next morning, Saturday, I was awakened with the same love of the previous night, with very interesting kisses and licks. What I did not remember was that it was part of a celebration. A celebration I had completely forgotten.- Good Morning. She spoke in her most husky and sexy voice near my ear, sitting on my hips, deliberately curling her body there. I, of course, was already hard as a stone: She had left me in that state without me even conscious. She could do that sort of thing. "Well ..." I started, but I could not finish the sentence because she decided to sit on my dick at once. - Ppppffffhhhh ... - I managed to say, holding her by the waist while still trying to completely return to reality - What did I do to deserve this? She laughed still against my ear, lifting her hips a little just to sit on me again. And again I moaned. "Do not you know what day it is?" I was apprehensive for a moment, nodding my head to make sure I had not forgotten any important dates. Our first month of marriage had already been about two weeks ago, and I remembered the occasion, bringing her flowers, chocolates, and a string of pearls. Our second month had not yet arrived. "No ..." I said, trying to disguise the fear in my voice. She stopped moving, staring at me with a smile, but I continued to fear. - Are you serious? "I'm ..." I said, already a little desperate. I would apologize when I knew what date I had forgotten. - What Day is Today? Camila put her face back next to my ear, laughing openly from my face. "It's her other mother's birthday. She said, taking my hand and squeezing it into her belly. - Is it June 20th? It's my birthday? I asked, genuinely surprised by the news. - No. It's the birthday of the Angolan baker on the corner. "Of course, Lauren. I had never forgotten my own birthday before. It was one of the only days when I felt a little important. This was the first time it had happened, and I realized that maybe it had happened because lately I've been feeling more important. Or because there were more important and more valuable things around me. Whatever it was, I was in profit. "So this is my gift?" I asked provocatively as I grabbed her waist again. - Of course not. This is your "good morning." It was, undeniably, an excellent "good morning." We spent the whole day at my parents' house. The celebration was due to a simple (but very good) lunch that my mother made a point of preparing. She and my father were truly happy to spend the celebration of my birthday with me, since we had not been able to do this for a long time because of the distance. I got the calls from the only people I cared about who could not be there: Ally, Chris, Taytay and Oliver. I wished, in my heart, that we should not be so distant, but everything could not be perfect. Anyway, I was already more than happy to be able to share that moment with the people who were next to me. As it was getting dark, Camila and I returned to our house. It was the first birthday I spent with her, and I wanted to take that opportunity. It was not necessarily sex I was looking for, but just having her company in isolation, without needing to divide my attention between her and anyone else-and especially that her attention was mine alone. It was obvious that I loved my parents and wanted to spend as much time as possible with them, but when we were all together, all attention turned fatally to the same subject: Camila's pregnancy. But that was my day. And I wanted to be spoiled by her until I was sick. - What do you want to do? She asked as we entered the house. - I want to stay with you. She smiled patiently. - I will stay with you. But I'm referring to what we're going to do for your birthday.- I do not want to do anything. I want to stay here with you. I repeated. "How" you do not want to do anything "? We have to celebrate your birthday in some way! - We can celebrate at home. "This is not a celebration. - She concluded in a skeptical tone - Let's go somewhere. Have you worked so hard, how about having some fun? "I can have fun and relax at the same time. I just need a tv, a bucket of popcorn, and my wife around. - Lo, this celebration will go down in history as the most boring celebration in the world ... - It's cold outside. And windy. And it raining. I do not want to go anywhere. "But ..." "But" nothing, you stubborn one! It's my birthday! Camila snorted, visibly annoyed, and went upstairs to take a shower. *** The movie ended around 10pm and I partied silently. That's because she'd decided to watch a movie with me using that wonderful almond cream and getting caught up in me all the time. When I made clear my obvious lack of interest in TV and my full attention to it, I was warned that we would be in the video room exclusively to watch a movie, since I did not want any "celebration" for my birthday. But I knew she would not be that cruel, and that she would give me what I wanted by the end of that night. So I had to stand patiently for those two hours with Camila clinging to me, wearing nothing but a social shirt of mine (already stolen) and white panties, claiming that "since I'm going to stay at home, I'll be at ease." But I knew she was doing it on purpose, so I held my ground. "It's ..." I began to stretch as the letters climbed on the screen. She was sprawled between my legs, imitating my act. - Did you like the movie? She asked, turning slightly and rubbing her cheek against my chest. - No. It sucked. She laughed heartily, getting to her feet and saying, "At least we had a bucket of popcorn." - IS. I started, getting to my feet, too. "At least until you ruin covering with mayonnaise." She grabbed a cushion from the floor and tugged at me, leaving the room soon after. - I'm Pregnant! My desires have to be attended to. I folded the pillow, giggling from her face as I followed her into the hallway. "As long as you do not make it up to eat brick or anything like that ... Hey, go where?" I asked, watching her walk towards the stairs. "Our room is there. - Go on. I'm going to hop in the kitchen to get a glass of water. - I'll get it for you. "No, I will." - She insisted, holding me by the arm and preventing me from walking - I'll be back in a minute. Camila started down the steps calmly, leaving me all confused. "Are you wearing the slippers?" I screamed for her to hear me downstairs. - I am! I walked into the room without haste, reaching there and crawling under the sheets. I found your attitude strange, but that's okay. When she returned, I would demand my reward for being a controlled wife during all that fucking movie. When she entered the room again, she carried a small bowl in her hands, covered with a dishcloth. - What? I asked already curious. - Can you do me a favor? - She said, ignoring my question - Can you go in the bathroom to get a towel? I thought I'd ask why, but I gave up right away. Doing what she wanted would bring me explanations faster than asking her what she was up to. So I did as she asked, handing him the folded towel. "Lie on the bed." - She asked."Are you going to tell me what you're up to?" "The faster you go, the faster you'll know. I sighed, obeying her again. Camila left the covered bowl on the nightstand when the towel was properly opened on the mattress, and asked me to lie down on it. "I did not know what to give you for your birthday ..." She began, casually sitting on my hips, and I noticed that her underwear was gone, though I did not know when or how she had taken away. "There's something you can always give me as a gift ..." I began, laughing in an abused way as my hands slid down her thighs, each on either side of my waist. - Yeah, I know. But this I give you almost every day ... - Camila began to unbutton the shirt she wore, gradually, while speaking in a calm and soft voice - Then had to have a differential. She took off her shirt and I sighed. I always sighed. Not surprisingly, she was already used to it. It was really admired. "It does not need any differential ..." I said distractedly, running my hands down her torso. - Need yes. So I remembered that there was one thing ... "She started to pull off my pants now, pulling it anyway up to my feet, causing our bodies to come into direct contact - One thing you said one day. - What I said? I asked just to ask. I was not even paying much attention to what she was saying. I was too focused on his body on top of mine. "One day you said you wanted to eat me with something." I looked at her face - because until then my eyes were sweeping every curve of her body - and I saw a provocative look there. I glanced at the bowl on the bedside table, then turned to face her, already smiling. "But ..." She started again, taking the bowl and bringing it to the mattress, on the towel. "How is your day today?" Camila took the dishcloth out of her hands and took out a wet bomb with syrup of chocolate. I remembered that dessert, and I remembered how much I really wanted to taste it on my wife's body-girlfriend at the time. She offered the candy in my mouth and I accepted. - Is good? She asked, letting me suck on her two fingers. - Wonderful. Camila smiled in a strange way. As I turned my hands to her waist, she took the dishcloth beside us and asked me to sit down. I was curious again, but I obeyed without question. "You know ..." She started, bringing the dishcloth to my eyes and covering them, making me stay in the dark - I think it will get even better if I sharpen your senses a bit. She punctuated the phrase with a firm knot behind my head, and all I did was smile. I felt his hands on my chest, pushing me down, making me lie down again. "Let's see how sensitive he is." She spoke, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "But I still want to eat you with it." I said in a low voice, excited by all that. "If there's anything left after I eat you ..." My whole body shook. She let out a low laugh and my cock moved of its own accord. I stood there in the dark, in the silence, waiting for what Camila would do next. For a long time. The expectation was incredibly exciting, as if my body were waiting desperately for the next touch. Every sound emitted, unwittingly or not, was picked up much more accurately now. Even the smell of candy seemed to intensify. When I felt a cold drop fall on my chest, I shuddered immediately, and could not even contain the involuntary sigh that came from my lips. - Cold? I heard her voice ask, now looking much more velvety. "A little ..." I said, wanting to laugh that nervous laugh. In the next second, I felt his tongue slipping just where the cold drop was, tracing a wet and warm path down there. I gripped the towel under me hard, afraid to apply that force to her body.- Warm? His voice spoke again, in a provocative tone. - Perfect. I answered. Her laughter sounded again in the dark. I felt another drop be carefully poured, now on one of my nipples. "Damn ..." She did not answer, and almost immediately she felt her tongue play there, wiping the chocolate drop slowly, almost torturously. One more drop was spilled on the other nipple, and the way to clean it was repeated. - Good? - She asked. "You have no idea ..." I replied, trying not to tremble. I felt a bonbon touch my lips and I opened my mouth, accepting what she offered me. I sucked the tips of her fingers harder this time, making it clear that I was quite aroused. But she knew that. Camila was silent, doing nothing, not touching me. And every second, my body seemed to burn even more, waiting for the next movement. I was taken by surprise when he came, but I grabbed the towel again and stood, standing, receiving a trail of cold syrup being poured from my chest to my belly button. I took a deep breath, trying to keep my balance. Seconds later her mouth went down the same path, licking and nibbling absurdly arousing on my skin until it reached my navel and finished drinking the dessert trail. Again she was silent, withdrawn, motionless. I waited patiently for the next movement, and the seconds passed without a touch, instead of discouraging me, left me even more alight. Desperate. Crazy horny. A single drop fell on the head of my cock. "Aiputaquepariu ..." I gasped, wondering how she would wipe that drop: Just like she had cleaned up all the others. I felt his tongue pass quickly there, teasing me. - Ssss ... Love ... - Yes? - Can I take the sale? I asked, not worrying about the fact that I was completely breathless. - Of course not. "Please ..." "No." "For God's sake ..." I felt the mattress move a little, and the next second his soft, husky voice spoke at the foot of my ear. "No." I shivered from head to toe , unprepared for that proximity, even in the dark. I was going to speak again, but at that moment I felt my cock being completely covered by the cold syrup. The cold against my skin made me tremble again, and a half-desperate sound broke from my throat. I heard the silence again, gradually becoming accustomed to the temperature of the liquid in a part of my body so sensitive. I knew Camila was silent to increase my expectation. And his tactics were working very well. She was silent for a long time. And I waited, like a child waiting for Christmas. His mouth suddenly enveloped me, all at once, from beginning to end. I let out a moan so loud that, in contrast to the silence, it sounded like a scream. My hands automatically migrated to her hair, even though I could not see anything. That was very, very good. By canceling my vision, my other senses - especially touch - became much sharper. The feel of her mouth in me seemed much more pleasurable, much more intense. It was as if she had evolved a lot in the art of doing that, but I knew it was impossible: She already knew how to do it perfectly. The blame could only be on sale in my eyes. - Caralh ... Wait ... - Is not it good? I heard her ask, pushing her mouth away from my cock.- It is! I said, trying to look less breathless than I really was. "But ..." She sucked again, and I could not keep thinking. I wanted to ask her to slow down. She did not want to cum so fast, and she did not want to do it in her mouth. But I could not even utter a single word, and when I almost came back to think coherently again-when Camila stopped sucking for a few seconds-I realized that the truce had only happened so that she had time to get the and pour more of that fucking cold syrup on me. And then I gave up being rational. After all, getting me serious was exactly what she wanted. All I could do was congratulate her for being as successful in her attempt as she always was when she wanted something. His mouth went back to lick and suck my cock in a maddeningly good way, and all I did was accept it. No matter how many ways she would still try to drive me crazy, she would always succeed. - I'll g ... Love, I'll ... - Enjoy. And after that, of course I did. Instantly. His mouth stayed there, wrapping me calmly as the last drops came out with every pounding my penis gave. My eyes were aching, such was the force with which I kept them closed. The knuckles of my fingers also looked hard, and I immediately loosened the tightness around her wires, fearing she was hurting. When I felt the mattress move once more, I waited for hands behind my head to untie the nodes that kept the blindfold in my eyes, but that did not happen. Instead, all I felt was his lips, giving me simple bowels on the neck, trailing a path to my ear. When her mouth reached it, I heard perfectly the sound of her throat as she swallowed what she still held in her mouth. Like it's soda. "You're going to kill me," I said in a weak voice, still very shaken by the recent orgasm. - I would not do that. - She replied, still at the foot of my ear - I know how far I can play with you. I felt the sale being pulled delicately from my face, only to reveal Camila there in front of me, staring at me with those bright eyes and that innocent smile on my lips. I turned my head instinctively to the side in search of the bowl, and noticing that there was still some of the icy liquid inside, I smiled maliciously at her again. - My turn. I said, feeling the owner of the situation for the first time that day. Without giving her time to answer anything clever, I took her in a kiss perhaps a little too effusive. The belly was disturbing our closeness, so we carefully turned in the bed, keeping it now lying on the mattress, the same place I was before. "But it's your birthday ... It's you who have to get all the attention ..." She started between kisses and another, trying to speak but being stopped by my mouth. I gripped the bowl anyway and poured a few drops of chocolate into her breast. She shivered in response to the liquid's temperature, but if it was making her as excited as she left me, I knew the discomfort with the cold would be the least of the problems. I took my tongue to the valley of her breasts, licking the liquid there in the most provocative way I could. She rolled her eyes as she felt my tongue coming into contact with her skin, and it made me want to continue. I gingerly poured the syrup over her left breast and, trying to be affectionate, sucked it slowly, afraid to hurt her because I knew the region was more sensitive than usual to the pregnancy. She groaned in response, bringing her hands to my hair and squeezing them between her fingers.When I repeated the act on the other breast, she arched her back instinctively on the bed, but that made her belly more disturbing my movements. I smiled against his skin, leaving a trail of kisses wet - and now molasses - across her body. She began to let out low, slightly hoarse groans, and that made the hairs on my neck stand up all at once. I took the bowl again, poured the remaining cream around her navel, and licked it slowly, slowly, waving my hands all over her body, touching her as I knew she liked it, making her gasp and open completely to me. And then I was hard again. I positioned myself between her legs, but I realized that it was all honeyed. And I could not put it that way. "Oh, dammit ... I can not eat you ..." "WHAT?" She asked, opening her eyes immediately and staring at me with a murderous expression. "Why not?" "Because I'm sweet-smelling. And the only thing that can melt you in there is my fuck. I replied, smiling smugly. She snorted in a bad mood, staring up at the ceiling. "Get a condom, Lauren!" - I do not have a condom! - WHY NOT? - Because I only climb with my wife. - I answered in an obvious way, finding that very funny. - Shit! She got up at once, almost knocking me to the floor, and pulled me by the hand in a little hurry. When I got up, I picked her up, even with the extra weight of her belly, and walked at once to where I knew she was taking us, leaving behind the bowl, the dishcloth and the dirty towel of the rest of chocolate. - Shower or bath? I asked. "Where you can wash yourself first." She answered promptly. - Yes ma'am. - Smile. SEVENTH MONTH It was in the seventh month that I lost the exclusivity. My daughter was growing, growing strong and manifesting now when other hands "touched" her. And I felt a bit divided: If on one side I found it lovely to see her kick everyone, the other was a little sad to know that something that was only ours had ceased to be. - She kicked it! - My mother spoke in two octaves above normal - I felt! In the next moment, my father's hands joined her, to make sure it was not a lie. - Wow! - He exclaimed two seconds later - She really kicked! And it kicked hard for someone so small! - Let's control our joys. - Camila said, trying to hide the laughter - Lauren is hurt. "Of course I'm not ..." I replied, sounding like a lying child. "Oh, you are. You are no longer her favorite. "Hey, just because I do not have more exclusivity does not mean I'm not the one I prefer," I argued. "You'll see. She's going to find me the best. "I have already seen that we will have work to" demolish it, "Mila. "My mother spoke again, laughing like a preteen when she felt another kick. "What about the new water gym teacher, Mother?" I asked, taking the matter elsewhere, perhaps deliberately. Camila's teacher had received a proposal in the other corner of the country, and she would have to leave us. But I insisted on the exercises during pregnancy: If the doctor said it would do her and my daughter well, then I would spare no effort to keep them. "Oh, I see that. She replied, still distracted by her throbbing belly. "It's hard to find some good, available teacher who agrees to teach at the student's house. But I'll find it. I just ask that you have a little patience. Camz was patient. Me, not so much. He wanted her to deal with something soon. She was afraid that the pregnancy was upsetting at that. And I did not want the pregnancy to upset her at all. The visit to the obstetrician was normal. It was always a relief to hear him say that everything looked good in that pregnancy.Dr. Lewis informed us about the differences and advantages between normal delivery and cesarean delivery, and of course, she preferred the former. I also liked this idea more, but it was clear that it was she who would decide that. It was not me who would have to feel a whole child coming out of me. The doctor also began to prepare us for the approach of childbirth, which, by our calculations, would take place in mid-September. And I was so glazed on that date that I forgot another equally important date. - Lolo? I took my eyes off the computer and saw my father in front of me. He seemed a bit agitated. - What is it? "Your mother just called me." Looks like your sister went into labor. I do not know why it made me so nervous. She was pregnant, and at nine months' gestation (even if I had forgotten that), she was expected to go into labor. The baby would not stay inside forever. - And now? I spoke in a slightly squeaky voice. He stared at me as if he had not understood my question. - Now ... She's going to give birth. - She is fine? - Do not know. The caller was Oliver. He seemed calm ... "But Oliver always seems calm!" "Daughter, I think if there was a problem, he would have told us. - Right. I spoke in a low voice, wanting to calm myself, since my father seemed much calmer than I - How is the mother? A little hectic. But I think it's fine. Mila is there with her. - Great. "We have nothing left but to wait." And then we waited. Very. Or maybe it was my state of nerves that made every minute last about half an hour. "Is it normal to be like this?" I asked, now I entered his room. It had been two hours already. "I do not think you have a right time." It's not an operation, it's a normal delivery. Your mother was late when you three. "Okay," I finished in dismay, letting myself fall onto one of the sofas. I could not work anymore. My father did not either. Anxiety was taking care of both of us, even though he seemed less shaken than I. The clock was 19:00, and since neither of us could read any contract at that point, we were away from the company earlier. When we got home, we found my mother and Camila sitting on a couch watching TV. - What's up? I asked, sitting between them. - Nothing yet. My mother spoke in a very calm tone of voice. "But do not worry. She is fine. That was great news. It was clear that it was all her intuition, but her intuition was not like the other female intuitions. It was almost like Taylor's: Scary and, as far as I could remember, reliable. And taking into account that this connection was quite strong mainly between the two, I was more at ease of hearing it say that. - Great. I turned, turning to Camz. "And you. How are you doing? - Pregnant. She said simply, smiling. "Are not you cold?" I asked, watching the thin T-shirt she wore. "No. I've been very hot." - Thing of pregnant people. My dad joked. We stayed there for a long time without doing anything. It was annoying that I could not get a car and run to meet Taylor, and the more time passed, the harder it was to remember my mother's comforting words. And then her cell phone whistled loudly and fell silent again. It was a message. I stretched my neck to the phone's display in her hands. My father appeared behind the couch and Camila came over me to get access to the picture that had been sent: A picture of Taylor all smiling, though a bit sweaty and disheveled, holding on her lap a tiny boy with a face of puto that made me laugh in the same second. Below, a short text message read "Congratulations, Grandmas and Aunties!" It was all right, and I knew my laughter had come out stronger because of the relief. She was fine. The baby was fine. Everything was great."What an unpleasant grandson you have, Grandma. I teased, wrapping an arm over his shoulder and pulling her into a hug. And of course she was already crying and laughing at the same time, hypnotized by the screen of the cell phone she kept in her hands. - He's beautiful! - Camila said, smiling as well - Although I did not think he was too keen to leave ... The image was cut and interrupted by Christopher's call, causing the cell to ring outrageously. I pressed the speaker button to answer it, still in my mother's hand. "Chris, his ugly face made my nephew's picture disappear. You fool! I spoke in a good mood so that he could hear me. - Dude, did you see? The guri pulled Taylor's good mood! - He said, already laughing. "I was a bit intimidated ... Chris just called to congratulate our parents and ask how our mother was. He knew her well enough to know that she must be thrilled. Fortunately our father was there when she began to sob. It was hard to know what to do when this happened. We got to talk to Oliver an hour later. According to him, everything had gone well. Taylor was asleep, and Enzo - as they decided to call him - too. He said that he would spend the night in the hospital, but that, if all went well, they would go home the next day. My mother said that she would call again, making clear her desire to travel to France next week to meet her grandson in person. I knew that was the kind of thing that would make my dad find a way to stay away from the company to keep up with her. And I also knew that was a great idea, but I was a bit worried anyway. And it had nothing to do with the fact that I would spend a week taking care of my father's business in his absence, but with the fact that Camila could not count on my mother's company. I knew she would not be completely alone, but still, it was a little worrisome. But so they did. The next week I said goodbye to them, asking them to take as many photos of my nephew as possible, and to convey my wishes of congratulations to Oliver, Taylor, and their pimples. *** - And his name is Juan. - Juan? "I repeat, being a bit wry." That's a Latin lover's name. - Well, he's Argentine. I dropped the cutlery on the plate and stared at my mother. She and my father had been back from France for a week. "Let me get this straight: Is my wife's hydrogymnastics teacher a Latin lover, probably muscular and artificially tanned, who will be rubbing her in a swimming pool all day? And in a swimming trunks? My father and Camila laughed together, but I did not find it amusing. In fact, he did not like it at all. "Brushing her?" Honey, it's an aqua-gym class, not underwater tango. - It does not matter. "Daughter, he was nominated by two trusted friends of mine, who had children recently. He is an excellent professional, is experienced and specializes in classes for pregnant women. Ah: And none of them complained about sexual abuse. "And why do not we choose another teacher?" Or a more ... normal teacher? - I can not understand why Juan is not normal by his standards, but I think the reason for his question is simple: Because he is the only one available. "Mother, are you sure?" I asked cautiously, trying not to sound rude or ungrateful for her effort. "We can search better ... I can search ..." Camila coughed faintly, just to draw attention to herself. "Sorry to get in, but ... I'm going to enter the eighth month of pregnancy. Are not we late with this? - Exactly. My mother concluded, staring at me with a neutral expression and speaking sweetly, "Honey, you're no child. Everyone here is mature to face the situation as it is. Do not get in trouble where you do not have it, okay? Defeated.I had been defeated by my mother and my wife. They were uniting against me, making my insecurities cease to be nightmares and come true. Why are some women so cruel? EIGHTH MONTH - Tomorrow he's going to give Mila's first class. I will be there. So we better decide things. My mother said excitedly. We were on the first day of the eighth month of pregnancy, chatting in the living room of our house. It was Sunday. - Great. What time is it? I asked. - His free time runs from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. - I leave at 8:00 PM from work. "I got home about 8:30 p.m. - So? Camila asked, a little confused. What did he have? Anything. I would not see how the guy was. I would not see if he looked like a rapist or a murderer. But of course they were not worried about that. As long as the hottie-latin-seductive teacher introduced himself in bathing suits with that fucking latin-irritating smile (which I had never seen but hated), that was fine. I went to work the next day pretty fucking life, and maybe it was even immature, but the fact was that I did not like to leave my pregnant woman, beautiful and with the hormones in fury in a pool with a guy who probably had that own accent of erotic movies. She was all small and fragile, and he was probably twice me. If he tried anything ... That fire that this type of man had ... That blood bubbling with desire to ... - Want to shut the fuck up, fucking? I spoke to myself, and Mrs. Parker, my secretary, a 60-year-old widowed lady, was frightened by swearing and left my office immediately, looking horrified. Great. Being labeled crazy was all I needed. I got the brilliant fact of not concentrating all day because of that. When I ran home, maybe I could see the guy's face, he was gone. Instead, I met Camila inside the pool and my mother sat on a bench outside her, the two chattering and giggling like little girls. The maid was gone. - Good night dear. - My mother began, getting up - Almost you do not arrive before Juan leaves. - It's all right. - I lied, pretending not to care what was, in my heart, my goal - How was the class? - Great. Camila replied smiling, leaning against one edge. "You're not tired, are you?" Remember what the doctor said. You can not exaggerate in the exercises. - I'm not tired. It is harder to get tired in the water. I turned to my mother, who was already standing beside me. - What do you think? I asked. - Great. He is very responsible, and brings all the equipment. Those styrofoam boards and foam things ... He's very careful. With each new exercise he asks how she is feeling. - How old is he? She stared at me as if she were staring at a child in the morning. "I do not know, I did not ask. - About? - Maybe a 27. That's great. A Latin, muscled, seductive and YOUNG Latin water gym teacher. "Mother, you said he was experienced. - I spoke slowly, closing my eyes - How can he be experienced at 27? - Lauren - I heard Camila's voice suddenly by my side and I opened my eyes - You need to stop this bias with young professionals. She was wet, beautiful, half-naked, cute, pregnant and staring at me with those two little chocolate balls as she innocently dried herself with a white towel. My wishes, in turn, of innocents had nothing .. But my mother was ten centimeters from me. I had to control myself. - Did you go to class in this bikini? I asked, noticing, obviously, the very little clothing that covered only the essentials.- Yes. It's the same bikini I wore in class with the other teacher ... - Do not you have a bathing suit? "No." I smiled, but she noticed it was a mocking smile. "Let's get a bathing suit tomorrow." - I concluded. She crossed her arms, and I was a bit mesmerized by the gout that ran down her round belly. "You're going to buy me some wetsuit." I did not answer. Maybe it was not a bad idea. - He is handsome? I threw without thinking, and my mother laughed at my side. "You're more beautiful, my dear. She said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Great. My mother thought I was prettier. That meant a lot. As much as shit. I looked at Camz and noticed that she was struggling not to laugh, hiding her mouth with the towel. - You are more beautiful. She repeated the words already spoken. - You are lying. I rebounded. She raised her eyebrows. - Kids, this talk is getting too narcissistic for me. "My mother said amusedly, catching our attention." I'm leaving. "Do you want me to drive you, Mom?" "No need, my dear. Walking is good. When my mother left us, I pulled Camila to the room by the hand, took her bikini and devoured it ... I thought my "neura" about the Latin son-of-a-bitch teacher would pass over time, but I was wrong. . Every day I went to work hating him and wondering how many different ways he could try to seduce my wife. It was unhealthy, immature, and a little worrisome jealousy, I admitted, but being away while the target of my jealousy was camouflaging Camila inside the pool of OUR house helped make everything a little worse. Maybe time could have helped improve my problem, but it did not. It did not happen because I did not wait. In the week after his first class, I arrived at work one hour early on purpose. Because that Monday, I'd purposely leave an hour earlier. Only three classes had passed. I'd be surprised by the fourth class, figuring to find him rubbing at my wife while seducing her in his accursed Spanish accent, and for that, already imagining the various ways of killing him on the way home. That day my mother would not be there to keep Camila company. That day would be perfect for a flagrant. Not that I did not trust her. It was HIM that I did not trust. She was emotionally shaken - and "hormonally" as well - and men are whacky and opportunistic bastards. Mainly Latino, muscled men and water gymnastics teachers. Arriving in front of the house gate, around 7:30 p.m., I did not enter the car in the garage. I parked on the pavement so as not to make a noise and alert him to my presence. I walked quickly, without running. It was a form my brain had found to make me believe that I was not anxious. There was a car in the garage. Probably the guy. I went into the house, threw my file anywhere, and headed straight for the pool. I was thinking about a theatrical entrance, with a foot in the door and death threats, but maybe I was exaggerating. Perhaps it would be better to wait and see the scene I would encounter. - Mrs. Jauregui! The maid greeted me with surprise, already with her purse on her shoulder, ready to leave. Maybe it was because I was covering up that bastard, or maybe because I never got home in time to find her right there. - Good night, Emma. Is Camila in the pool? - Yes ma'am. I did not give explanations, just going there. She came after me, silent, sounding too calm for those who were being complicit in such a shame. And then, as I entered the room, I found Camila inside the pool with her hands in a kind of foam buoy and the guy right behind her. Really close.Almost glued. Almost raping her. Okay, I was exaggerating. - Good night! I screamed in my thickest voice, and almost choked on the strength I had. They both had to turn to face me, because they had their backs to me. At the sight of me, Camila smiled wide and innocent. - You are early! She spoke like a happy girl, but for the first time I was not looking at her. I was looking at the damn Latin. He was blond. Blonde and tan. And he had green eyes too. And he had a gypsy ring, or whatever, like that, in one of his ears. He was also taller than me, and he was muscular. And he was at most 30 years old. And it looked like a model out of the cover of a good magazine. Oh yes: And it was stuck in MY wife. She turned to him and informed him that I was her wife. I liked that. - Good night! He spoke, all polite and smiling. The bastard. "So we finally met. I replied, trying to sound tough. - Yeah. Camilinha talks a lot about you. Camila? CAMILINHA? What the fuck was that camelinha? "We can finish a little earlier today, can not we?" She asked him. - Clear! See you on Wednesday. Today's class was great. I was still digesting the cute, intimate nickname he had given my wife in a week's living. Even so, I did not look at the pool. He walked calmly down the stairs and I felt the maid beside me a bit breathless, as if it were an erotic commercial. I rolled my eyes, snorting in a bad mood. I was waiting for him to emerge from the water and show his obvious erection for curling my wife like a dog in heat. And then I would squeeze his neck and suffocate him to death. But he was not aroused. The trunks had a normal volume. And then I went from the stage of hating him to the stage of strangering him: What was his problem anyway? Fuck, he was insulting my wife! How could it not make him hard like a rock? - Hey, can I leave the buoys here? - He asked, turning to Camila - I have no class until Wednesday. I will not need them. - Clear. - She replied, still in the middle of the pool - I keep it here for you. - Thank you. - He answered, all smiling. I wanted to punch him. When he went into the little dressing room in one of the corners of the room to change, I was going to ask him what fucking inha was the one he had put at the end of her nickname, but at that moment the maid seemed to come out of the trance and talk to her first. She fucked up. She talked about what she did, about what she failed to do, about the shopping list, about some crockery she had accidentally broken, apologized at least three times for it, and talked about her schedule. She spoke so much that the damned Latin had time to change and leave the dressing room already fully dressed. Seeing him walk, the maid stopped talking again to admire him. "See you Wednesday then." He let go, past the pool and waving everything happy to Camila. When he got close to me, he seemed more sympathetic and casual than ever. "Nice to meet you. And congratulations to the wife and daughter. - Thank you ... - Are you going too? He asked meekly to Emma, who stood beside me, drooling over the guy like a dog watching chicken roasting on the bakery door.- Y-yes ... Of course, I am ... - Do you want a ride? She answered a "yes, thank you" through sighs and giggling giggles. I rolled my eyes again, wanting to shake her and tell her to stop doing it. I took them to the garage, since the control of the gate was with me. When that gigantic car had left, I brought mine inside and closed the doors, going quickly to meet Camila again. "Why are not you wearing the swimsuit I bought you?" I asked, entering the room again as I tried to disguise the hurt tone in my voice. She was still inside the pool, near the edge, beside the stairs. "How do you know what I'm wearing?" I'm underwater. - Because the swimsuit is fluorescent green. I could see him out of here. - Ah yes. It is fluorescent green. Maybe that's WHY I'm not using it. I snorted, clearly annoyed. - And then you get that nasty bikini showing your whole body to this guy ... - Indecent? What is indecent about him? - It shows a lot of your skin. "Of course you do, Lauren. It's a bikini. But it hides everything that has to be hidden. - Not everything. - What's missing to hide? - Your legs. And your belly. And the region of his chest ... "" So you're telling me I should do burka hydrogymnastics? " I hated arguing with her. Not because I could get her out of earnest-I could not do that-but because she always had arguments that left me unanswered. And when I no longer had good answers to give, I resolved to be sincere. "I'm telling you that you in a bikini in a pool clinging to a muscular guy I do not know is making me jealous." That's all I'm saying. She sighed, still staring at me as if trying to explain something obvious to me that I could not understand. "I already have a wife who can handle the message. I do not need anyone else. Forget this silly jealousy. I liked it when she referred to me using the word "wife." I also liked it when she mentioned, in some way, that I satisfied her. I liked it even more when I was jealous and she did it. But it was hard not to feel threatened, and even harder to prove it. Okay, I had agreed to hire the TASTY teacher, but that did not mean I had done it willingly. It was bad enough to have a maid and my mother keeping her company when I could not. To have a guy touch her, even if I did not touch her with the intensity I knew the kid wanted, was twice as bad. He was almost playing me wife, and I did not want the closest contact with a man she had in that pregnancy to be with the water gym teacher. - What are you thinking? She asked, strangely aware of my long silence. "How I hate that I can not keep up with this pregnancy more closely. "I answered objectively as I took off my shirt anyway and started unbuttoning my pants. Camila leaned her head on one edge of the pool and stared at me. For the first time in my life, I felt a little ashamed. When I took off my bra and my underwear, she spoke again. "Do not you have a swimming trunks?" "No ..." "And will you come in anyway?" - She asked, looking shy - I'm a little embarrassed ... I took back the boxer I had left on the floor and dressed, jumping into the pool soon after and swimming to meet her. As I approached, I was greeted with a long kiss - though the huge belly between us was a little embarrassing - and fingers pulling anyway the boxer I had just worn."Did you really take what I said?" She asked with a look of disbelief, tossing my wet underwear out of the pool again. "You sounded sincere!" I defended myself, hugging her as best I could. "You're very naive." She finished with a promiscuous look, kissing me again with an impressive fire. Camila was quite excited. She was pregnant, that's true, but I was struggling not to associate that repressed urge with the overly muscled teacher who had recently left, but my pathetic striptease. I was still jealous, even in that moment, and it was starting to annoy me. I turned her back to me, facing the edge of the pool, and made her rest at least one of her hands there, being careful enough to give her belly room. His other hand insisted on stimulating my already fully awake member, as if I really needed some encouragement. I kissed her neck provocatively, feeling how fresh her skin was, the consequence of so much time inside that pool. I slid my hands down the side of her body, making sure it was the bikini I had seen on her, with lashes. I pulled the two strings and the underside of her bathing suit loosened, so easily that it made me want even harder that she did not use it for class anymore. If I could do that, the fucker could too. And when Camila realized it, he would already be bothering her. "This fucking thing had to be with two blind knots ..." I started against his ear in a scolding tone, but that seemed to cheer her up even more. I slid my hands between his legs and began to play with my fingers there. - Because? She asked, throwing herself more against me and locking her fingers harder around my cock. "To make it harder?" - To make it difficult for someone to work. She laughed low, still with her eyes closed, seeming to take advantage of my touch. "Lauren, no one but you wants to eat me." I'm a hippopotamus. Clear. And then the naive was me. The next moment, without the slightest warning, she put the head of my cock in line with her entrance and leaned back, making me enter with incredible ease. I groaned against his shoulder as I forced my body forward, unable to think of any better position. I rested my hands on her belly and brought her closer to me, making sure that my limb did not penetrate too deeply and would result in discomfort because of the pregnancy, since that position underwater made us fit enough good. His two hands came to rest on the edge of the pool, making it even easier for me to get access to it. The thrust of the water on us made Camila weigh almost nothing, and it was so easy and interesting to do it in such a way that I wondered why we had never thought about it. With one hand, I pulled the tie that held the top of the bikini in it, and the takedown fell in the water only once. I ran my hands over her body as I always did, because I knew she liked it and because I liked to recognize it with touch as well. I grabbed her hair and pulled it gently, turning her head so that I could kiss her. She sighed, returning my kiss and swaying as she could in me. I understood that it was a clear sign of "eat me hard," but she knew I would not do that. Not with force.I turned my hands to her belly and immobilized her in the water, dictating our own rhythm. Camila seemed to be enjoying this much more than on other days. She was more breathless and more flushed than usual, and I began to worry if she was horny or if she was feeling anything strange. "Do you like swimming in the pool, love?" I asked at the foot of his ear. She shook her head with a "yes," still with her eyes closed, without speaking. "Why did not you tell me?" "Because ... I did not ... I knew ..." "You never did it in a pool?" "No ... I intensified the movements I made inside her, always taking care not to hurt her and to give comfort to the belly. She began to gasp harder, and as time passed, but she gasped. "It's good, is not it?" I spoke seductively close to her ear again, and she let out a delicious groan in response. Mental Note: Eat it in the pool more often. When I kissed her again, she dropped her hands from the edge and threw her arms back, wrapping me around the neck and trailing my fingers to the hairs on the back of my neck in despair. I accelerated my movements inside her reflex, feeling my control leaving me slowly. When I felt her pussy begin to close around my dick in waves, I brought my fingers up to her clit again, determined to make her lose control with style. I thrust my tongue into his mouth simply because the will came, but it was impossible to keep it there. By now she moaned so much that breathing seemed like a difficult task. As I pushed my face away from her and began to lightly bite her neck, never letting her get into the right spot or to stimulate her with her fingers, Camila began to shake. And I knew it was not cold. - Say ... Says that ... - She started, visibly with difficulty - Call me ... That way! I knew what she was referring to. We'd been working on it for the last few months, and it was no secret that she loved to hear me say it as possessively as possible. - My. "I came back to your ear." "My beautiful bitch. Just mine. All my. By now I was almost exploding with excitement. It was great then that she could not hold her orgasm much longer after that: All I needed was a few seconds to have her fully delivered, shivering and squirming in my arms. Only then did I let my face fall on one of her shoulders and allow me to orgasm as well. I was brought back by the several sudden movements that her belly made against my hand. That would have terrified me if I had not been accustomed to this fact during the last weeks: Our daughter always manifested when Camila reached the climax. She seemed to shake, perhaps from the acceleration of her mother's heart. But it was never as obvious as that. - We have to do this more often here. I spoke in a low voice. She smiled, turning to me at once. "I guess I can wait for you a little longer until you get home from work." I hugged her as best I could, trying to disguise jealousy in her voice. "As long as you wait for me to do this ..." She sighed, swimming away from me. "You're impossible when you split something." "I did not swear!" "I spoke a little desperate, sorry that I said that and pushed it away from me." But he is very intimate! He calls you Camila! No one calls you Camilo! - He is affectionate. She spoke simply, coming out of the pool and drying herself with a towel that was there. - Right. Your water gym teacher is kind to you. And you've only known each other for a week! This is weird! And I saw the way he looks at you. She raised an eyebrow. - What's the way he looks at me? "He's interested in you." - Where did you get that from? - I just know he is. - I doubt it very much. - Because? - Because he's committed. I rolled my eyes. "That's not enough to keep you from hurting you while I'm not here!" - Okay, Lauren. Do you want to know a reason enough to stop him from doing this? - I want. I said skeptically, folding my arms across my chest. "I do not have a dick." "Well ..." I started mechanically, but shut up shortly. "What?" "I do not have a dick." "I do not think he would choose anyone who did not have a dick bigger than his boyfriend."I kept moving for a while, staring at her as I tried to understand what she was telling me. - Boyfriend? - Precisely. More silence. - How do you know he's not lying ... - His name is Pablo, and he's a violin teacher. He is 30 years old and is also Argentine. "The two of them moved here three years ago and have been living together ever since." Okay, it was too much information to make up for nothing. But still ... "He had no way of homosexuality. "And you think every homosexual has to be a drag queen?" "No, but-" I did not notice a grimace when he spoke to me. - He's a homosexual. It's not a gazelle. - She said, laughing suddenly - In fact, Juan had seen a photo of you before, and I'll tell you something: I think that who you have to be careful with him is you. I covered my penis with my hands on instinct, only for the next second to feel stupid. She laughed even more, seeming to have fun with it all. "Are you going to stop the harassment with him now?" She asked, wrapped in a towel as she gathered both my clothes and hers in her arms. "Why did not you tell me before?" I asked a little bit, coming out of the pool and reaching for another clean towel. "Because I wanted you to stop your schism in a normal way." But since you can not be normal ... - Hey, I'm normal! I feel jealous from time to time ... "" You're exaggerated. - I only take care of what's mine. "You stifle what is yours." I stopped drying myself and looked at her in surprise. She did not seem to notice what she said, parting the wet clothes from the droughts in her hands. - I suffocate you? I asked sadly. I did not know I was choking her. It was not my intention. I have always heard, both from her and from others, that my exaggeration was sometimes disturbing, but I never thought I was on the verge of being considered a suffocating. Maybe Camila noticed some of the fear in my voice. When she looked at me, she seemed more aware of the meaning of my question. "Am I suffocating you?" I repeated, hoping she would answer the truth, but let the truth be "no." She walked over to me with a neutral expression, as if she were having a casual conversation. "You do not choke me." But sometimes it exaggerates. Really. "You said I stifled what is mine ..." "I know what I said. But I'm telling you the truth now. You do not suffocate me. I love the way you care about me. I do not think I could live without it. I've gotten used to your neurosis. If you took that away from me now, I'd go crazy. I continued to stare at her as she searched for some trace of lies in her speech. "But I'm saying this for your own good." You have to relax. You have to trust me more. And you have to be able to deal with the possibility of losing myself, one way or the other. Even if I assure you it will not happen on my own. But everyone can lose someone. "I can not lose you." "If you depend on me, you will not have to worry about it." "It's up to you." She kept looking deeply at me, thinking of something I could not understand. Camila was very serious, and I was not used to seeing her like that. She seemed to be wanting to say something important when talking about losses, but for some reason I felt that what she was talking about was not exactly about a loss "to someone else." It was weird. And I felt a little afraid. Then she blinked and sighed lightly, and her expression changed. It was as if now she was just rambling about the seasons. And whatever had come through her head had simply gone. And I knew that that matter, for an hour, had died. When a faint smile returned to play in the corner of her lips, she pulled the towel from my hands and smiled, sweeping my naked body up and down, less than a meter from me. - Best. She concluded, walking out of her back, still staring at me. "Much better. *** Our visits to the obstetrician began to be biweekly. And just as on the other visits the doctor always followed the same script: He measured Camila's pressure, checked her weight and listened to our daughter's heart. He asked about the symptoms, pains, exercises and food.And always at the end of the consultation, for my sake he would repeat the same thing: Everything was going as expected. She continued with her water aerobics classes. For some reason, they did not bother me anymore. After learning of the teacher's sexual orientation, my work days became considerably more productive, since I could now focus on my duties without imagining my wife being forcibly caught in the pool and drowning at the end of the day. At her request, I drew the piano from the living room. I had to get my score sheet somewhere and call a technician to tune the instrument on a weekend. I thought I was "rusty" by the time I was idle, but as soon as I sat down on the bench and saw the keys in front of me, I felt at home. I could not remember how good it felt to extract from simple sheets of paper the more classic melodies, some happy and some too serious.She seemed delighted to watch me, and I felt happy as a girl doing something she really thought was cool. It was good to be admired by my wife, not only because it massaged my ego, but because I just felt like a better-and more useful-person doing something that made her happy. I played the piano on Sunday for a weekend, and from there I began to play religiously every night, at least one song, to make her happy or calm. It was at her request, so I did. Our daughter kept kicking whenever I felt my hand there, even though she moved when other people tried to feel it-but the difference was that I did not have to run to find her squirming inside Camila's belly like everyone else did . In my case, it kicked after I approached her. The sicknesses of the pregnancy remained marked for the first hours of the day, as usual. My wife's libido was still firm and strong. Things were still normal. And the days passed. NON MONTH As we entered the 36th week of gestation, it was my turn to start feeling really nervous. Dr. Lewis had estimated that the estimated date for our daughter to be born was between 10 and 18 September. In the meantime, we would have Camila's birthday, and I felt a little sad that I could not give full attention to this event, promising a wonderful party as soon as the dust settled down. She did not look sad at all, but she was feeling more anxious and sensitive than ever. Our daughter now moved so often that she seemed to be making her a little impatient. "She wants to leave." I stared at her in wonder, wondering in silence what she meant by that. "No. We do not have to go to the hospital. I'm just saying she's not quiet. I sighed in relief. "Why do not you lie down?" Do you watch TV or read a book? She must calm down ... "" No use. I've already tried. I think she's nervous because I'm anxious. I touched her belly and felt a powerful kick coming out from within. "It's ..." I concluded absently. "I think she wants to get out." The obstetrician had advised us not to have sex during that time, as any stimulus could hasten the labor process. I had to control myself every night of that last month, wishing her the same old way, but forbidden to touch her. At least in the conventional way. That had probably been the hardest thing I'd done in my whole life, and it had gotten worse because her libido had slowed down considerably at this stage of gestation. Which meant that I was not only without sex, but also without "foreplay." But it's alright. It was for a greater good. After our daughter was born, I would be late. I started to spend my free time playing the piano, even in Camila's absence. Or I'd run away from her to try to control myself, or attack her. Besides, music had always given me more balance. Playing Chopin or Bach helped calm me down, whether it was the anxiety of my daughter's arrival or the desire to attack my wife.No, go on! I turned around with the shock, almost falling off the bench. I had been playing for about two hours straight, and I thought it was time to stop. But I was startled to hear her voice behind me like a ghost. - Excuse. I did not mean to scare you. She spoke a little sheepishly. "All right ..." I started recovering. "How long have you been watching me?" - Not much. Camila pulled a chair to my side and sat up, sighing audibly. "Is she still moving a lot?" I asked, bringing one hand up to his belly. - Now it is. That's why I wanted you to continue. I looked at her curiously, not quite understanding what I had to do with it. "She calms down when you play. Especially this last song. Her belly kicked wildly, making her uneasy. I wondered if Camila was not in pain. - Can you play? She insisted. "Of course ..." I opened the sheet of music again, searching for the music in question. When I found it, I began to play the melody mechanically. Was that it? I asked, turning to her. She closed her eyes and sat there beside me, as if concentrating only on breathing. I kept my right hand playing the song and took the left again to her belly, too curious to take proof of what she said. The kicks were calming down gradually, as if our daughter was slowly relaxing or falling asleep. In a short time Camila's belly was still, as if nothing had ever happened there. "Why," I began, grinning. "So you like Mozart?" The belly continued "silent," asleep. The tiny little thing inside was quiet. "I'll take that as a yes." Camila managed to go to bed earlier that night. I was charmed by the sensitivity and good taste that my daughter seemed to have before she was born. After that day, I played her every night, reassuring her somehow and making my wife a bit more quiet before the big day. If that was all I could do to help, it would certainly be done. We repeat 3D ultrasound. We were looking at our whole, much larger daughter than the last time. Still perfect, for the happiness of all. We could see his features clearly, almost without hindrance, and wondered when medicine had advanced that way. That created a debate between me and Camila about who she looked the most. Although we both agreed that she was vaguely similar to me-even if it was risky to give any hint based solely on those pictures-I hoped the girl would end up resembling her. In fact, they were identical. The Doctor.Lewis said we were approaching almost ideal training time for most babies, and so I was starting to panic. Any day, any time, any time could be The moment. Each passing day made my state of nerves more obvious. My secretary only dealt with me with matters that needed to be resolved urgently. Every new knock on my door looked like the trigger that triggered my heart. I had begged my mother to keep Camila company for as long as I was not home, even though my father had allowed me to work fewer hours now. When I got home and realized that her belly was still there and there was no child in sight, I calmed down. It also calmed me when I woke up in the morning and noticed that our daughter had not resolved to leave in the middle of the night. Maybe it was my exaggeration, but exaggeration was something I had already gotten used to dealing with. It was part of my personality and period. To make things a little worse, my nights were very badly asleep. It was rare that my sleep was tranquil, without dreams, and even rarer were the nights without nightmares. In most of them I could not quite understand what was happening, but I knew it was bad enough to make me wake up with a pain in my chest. And, of course, the nightmares all revolved around Camila and my daughter. In time, I started to almost climb the walls, and it had nothing to do with the lack of sex, already duly overlooked by the importance of other subjects. What left me in that state was not knowing exactly what day, and at what time, and at what exact time my wife would turn to me with those little chocolate balls and speak in a soft voice that was about to give birth. - Lauren ... - What? Feel what? I'll get the car keys ... - I just wanted a glass of water. In the last two weeks she has had weak contractions, almost like minor cramps. I made sure of myself a few times-enough to make her lose her temper-that it did not mean we had to run to the hospital, but the obstetrician himself had said that those aches would be more frequent over time. Then a Sunday came. It was supposed to be a normal Sunday, a little monotonous, a little cloudy. We had lunch at my parents' house, as we almost always did. Camila slept a little late, since the night had been a little shaken because of the excitement of our daughter. I was also sleepy but could not sleep. I checked the things already arranged in two small bags. Everything was prepared for an emergency: Her clothes, baby clothes and warm clothes of the two types, plus oils and moisturizers, toiletries, cookies, a cell phone charger and a bottle of water, which I cleaned and changed every day. So when we had to go to the hospital, we'd just have to find the car keys. The night came like all the others. She was still a little drowsy, indicating that even the nap was not enough to make her rest properly. That night she went to bed early. That night I played the piano longer. That night she was different. "Can not you sleep?" I asked as I entered the room, finding her awake with the light of the lamp on, sitting on the bed with her back against the headboard. She was sweating a little and looked reasonably uncomfortable. It had been hours since we had kissed good night downstairs. - What's it? I raised my voice when Camila did not answer, unable to disguise my nervousness.- I'm in pain. I continued to stare at her, not knowing how to act, feeling my heart speed up. "Those pains you've been having?" I let go, hoping the answer would be positive. - More or Less, more or less? - They're a little different ... And they're stronger, and more frequent ... And they get more and more regular ... My heart started to beat really hard now. "Okay ..." I started out loud, speaking more to myself than to her. "Okay. I walked from side to side. I went down to the kitchen and got a glass of water, trying to look like normal. I offered to her and she drank some of the liquid. - Best? I asked. "No." "Worse?" - It's getting stronger ... It was enough. My share of rationality had already been hit, and I ought to take some credit for being able to act like a perfect (but normal) husband for so long. - Let's go to the hospital. - I finished, going to the closet to get the first jeans that were in sight. - Easy ... - No! I'm not calm! Let's go now! "Lauren, it may not be anything. - You are feeling pain! "It's still bearable. "And you really think it best to wait here until the pain becomes unbearable?" "Can we at least call Dr. Lewis?" I jumped a little in the same place, nervous about being upset. But in the end I gave in, taking my cell phone from the bedside table and dialing the doctor's number. - Hello? "Doctor, my wife went into labor and did not want to go to the hospital. "Do not be dramatic, Lauren! "Wait-how do you know she came in ..." The contractions grew stronger and more frequent. We have to wait until when? - Let me talk to her. As requested, I extended the phone to Camila and she answered. A secret dialogue between the two began, and I was allowed to hear only vague answers from her as "yes" and "a little" and "I do not know". She was aware of what he was saying, and every three minutes her face contorted with pain. I wished I could do something, but I knew I was useless at the time. "Okay," she said, after what seemed like hours. "Okay, I'll talk to her. Thanks. She hung up and then let her face contort again in agony. I sat down beside her a little desperately, taking one hand to her belly without thinking, trying to take some action that made her suffer less. I felt a sharp kick against my fingers, and for the first time I ignored it. I waited for his pain to soften to speak again. - And then? I asked without worrying about disguising the desperation in his voice. "What did he say?" Camila took a deep breath, looking focused on something as she handed me the cell phone. - He told us to go to the hospital. Now.
