Ruthless love

A Brief Escape

Stella had warned me that as soon as our child was born, her attention would be solely focused on tending to its every need.

Apparently Eleanor had told her some old method of figuring out the gender, without a scan, which was apparently a thing now.

One would have to determine whether the bump was hanging low, or sitting higher with a slight peak to it.

Nonsense if you asked me.

The next morning she was been standing by the mirror, carefully studying the growing bump, insisting that it was going to be a little girl from the way it was protruding.

"You see here?" she asked me chipperly.

She traced her fingers along her bare skin, following the round shape of her belly with her fingertips, in an attempt to make me see her point.

"Mm-hm" I replied absentmindedly, zoning out for a moment as my eyes followed the movements of her fingertips.

Unsurprisingly she noticed my distant reply.

She rolled her eyes at me, chuckling.

Back when I met her, that kind of behavior infuriated me, but now, I found it endearing.

"Mr. Mendoza, are you even paying attention?" she said, scolding me with a tender look in her eyes.

God I love that woman, I thought to myself, catching myself off guard.

Love

The previous night I had told her I loved her for the very first time.

I could not recall ever having been in love.

If I had, it had been a long, long time ago.

It was something I had always believed would be for anyone but me, but when she came along, that all seemed to change.

This frail, frustrating vixen had cast a spell on me the very first time I ever laid my eyes on her and I had no intention of resisting or breaking free.

Whatever this spell was, I wanted it to last forever.

I had been watching her in a daze, distracted by my own train of thoughts to such a degree that I was met with a pair of worried eyes the moment I snapped out of it.

"Are you alright..?" she whispered.

"Never been better" I replied warmly.

I was not lying.

I gently pulled her closer to me before getting down on my knees in front of her to listen to the growing life inside her.

She had gotten so used to it at this point, that she had stopped asking questions.

In fact, she seemed to enjoy it.

She probably just liked seeing me down on my knees, I thought to myself with a smirk before gently pressing my ear against the soft skin of her belly.

The sound was addictive.

It was something I had tried to describe to her on several occasions, but no words could describe the feeling of hearing the beating heart of a little life produced by oneself.