⇾ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 | 𝐏𝐚𝐮𝐥 𝐌𝐜𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐈

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙮-𝙎𝙞𝙭 ➪ 𝙍𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙡𝙚 𝙈𝙚 𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨

ꕥ August 11, 1966 ꕥ
15 weeks

It was the night—or morning, depending on how you looked at it—before Paul was leaving for the last stretch of the Beatles' last tour. I was laying in bed, tossing and turning. I couldn't keep my mind from wandering. I hadn't talked to my mother since she left me alone in my apartment a month ago. Ever since then, I hadn't been feeling very good about anything. I still felt alone, despite all the people I had around me that were supporting me. I still felt like my biggest support system should have been my mother.

I was now sixteen weeks pregnant and as my stomach continued to get bigger with each passing day, it became abundantly clear that I had a lot of thinking and shopping to do. I couldn't raise a baby if it didn't have anything, after all.

Paul had a spare bedroom in his house that he vowed to turn into a nursery after he got back from touring, but I had no clue what I was going to do. Caroline and I's apartment was definitely too small for a baby. I began to feel quite helpless. How was I ever going to do this? Every extra second I spent staring at the ceiling at night and not sleeping, I was finding something new to be worried about. I had already convinced myself that I was going to be a terrible mother, no matter how much Caroline and Paul tried to convince me otherwise.

I flipped over again in attempt to get comfortable enough to close my eyes, but it only made the pain in my back worse. I tried the other side to no avail. Finally, I was back laying on my back, my arms falling out to the side defeatedly. Not to mention, I was hungry for those stupid cheesy chips again. I could smack Paul in the face for introducing them to me.

I felt a ping of remorse when I thought about Paul. I was feeling very lonely right now and I desperately wished he were here with me.

I was wide awake. I had given up trying to sleep a long time ago. I just knew it wasn't going to happen as long as I was laying here alone, so I found myself getting up.

Harry was here with Caroline, so I went straight to the phone. I quietly picked it up and dialed Paul's number, hoping to God that he would wake up.

It rang a total of three-and-a-half times before I was met with a tired "hello?"

"Paul?" I whispered.

"Juliette?" he asked sleepily, seemingly surprised to hear me. "What are you doing up, love?" he asked.

"Paul, I can't sleep because I'm lonely," I said remorsefully. "And I want those stupid cheesy chips again. Can you get me some?" I asked him sweetly. "Pleeease?"

There was a pause on his end as he presumably looked for a clock. "At almost two in the morning?" he asked.

"Yes," I responded confidently.

There was another pause.

"Oh, alright," he said finally. "I'll be over there in just a few minutes, alright? You better be waiting."

I smiled happily. "Okay," I assured him. "I will be."

I went and slipped some leggings on with a loose t-shirt, and then made my way to the door, picking up my purse and slipping my jacket on on the way out. It wasn't really cold or anything. The jacket just made me feel more comfortable.

I went down to the lobby of the apartment building and stepped outside into the breezy air. After a few moments of waiting, I saw Paul's car pull up. I smiled and skipped over with a triumphant grin on my face.

"Fancy seeing you here," I said teasingly.

He smiled warmly. "Anything for you, dear," he joked. "Now, come on, let's go get your fucking cheesy chips."