crescent [h.s]

23

Aurora Adler

Recently, over the last couple days, I've really started to hate my body. I don't feel attractive anymore. I hate myself for saying it, but I miss my old body. I miss being able to lay on my stomach, and I miss being able to feel like myself.

I miss wearing all my favourite pieces of clothing.

Who knew week 30 would cause so much distress?

Harry's due home any minute now, and I'm so excited to see him again. He may have stayed over last night and we may have had lunch together, but I need him so much right now it's actually insane.

It's been 4 hours, and I miss him. Miss him more than anything.

When I hear the key in the door turn, I jump up from my spot in bed, and practically run, or more like waddle, over to the front door, locking eyes with Harry, a tear immediately slipping from my eyes when I make contact with him.

He drops his bags on the floor and brings me into his chest, hugging me tight to his body, kissing the side of my head repeatedly, "Beautiful, what's wrong?"

He goes to pull back so he can see me, but I shake my head, not wanting to disconnect from him quite yet. He brings me in closer, holding me tighter, letting me relax into him for as long as I need.

I sigh against his chest, breathing in a whole new breath full of his scent, smiling as I instantly feel comforted. He kisses the side of my head again, whispering to me, "Wanna go sit down?"

I nod and hold still as he slips his vans off, the both of us heading over to the couch after. Harry pulls my bare legs over his lap, and I lean my chest against his side, finally smiling to myself as I don't feel so at risk with my thoughts.

With his hand comforting up and down my thigh, I finally speak for the first time since he got home, "I feel like shit."

With a kiss to my shoulder, he nuzzles his head into my neck, pressing his lips up in a line to reach my ear, "How so, beautiful?"

I sigh at the nickname, one I don't relate to at the moment. "I don't feel beautiful at all. Don't feel like myself."

He lifts his head and looks at me deep in the eyes, "What can I do to help?"

I shrug, because honestly I don't know. "Getting her out of me would be great."

His brows crease, "You don't like your body anymore?"

I shake my head and place it against his chest again. "Feel like a whale. So fucking pregnant."

He hugs me tighter and rubs his hand over my bump, "Baby, I know these may feel like empty words to you right now, but you look fucking incredible. No one has ever looked more beautiful pregnant."

I lift a shoulder and drop it quickly, "Still feel ugly."

He stands up and pushes his hands under my ass, scooping me up with no trouble as he walks towards my room, placing me on the bed. Kneeling in front of me, he asks, "Have you got any maternity pictures? Like professionally taken? Not just bump mirror selfies?"

I shake my head and he's quick to smile. Heading into my closet, he rifles through my drawers and pulls out a white detailed one piece, one Deli bought me a few weeks ago when we went to the spa to get massages.

He places it on the bed next to me, and starts to lift the hem of my t-shirt, my arms automatically raising. Once the material is off me, he slides the one piece up my body, and pulls me up to stand to make sure everything is where it should be. Once he makes his way back in front of me, he sends me a smile and takes my hand, passing me some shoes to slide on, and picking up his work bag, before leading us out the apartment.