𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 [slow updates]

𝟒𝟒

My stomach churns and bile rises in my throat. I make a sour face just as I pass the kitchen, catching Eliza's attention.

Levin's mom calls my name and I turn to look at her.

I almost keep walking. I don't want to face her. Moms always know when something's wrong, and if she asks me if I'm okay, I might actually implode. Or worse, cry.

"Cindy!"

"Oh, hi." I mumble, my voice distant to even my own ears. "I didn't see you. Sorry."

I've been fine all morning, but suddenly I feel terrible. Like maybe I might pass out or something. I can't decide if I'm hot or if I'm cold, my hands are limp and numb at my sides. My whole body feels like static.

"Are you alright, honey? You don't look so good."

"I'll be okay. I'm on my way to my mom's house, I don't have time to..." I trail off feeling breathless. "Oh my God."

My first thought is that I'm going into labor, but that wouldn't make any sense. I don't have contractions and my water hasn't broken. So, what is it? It could be the anxiety and stress of all this catching up to me?

No... I've been fine. Mostly. I need water or something to eat. Then I'll be okay.

Levin's mom rushes over to my side, her hand on the small of my back.

"Come sit. Let me get you some water."

"No, I have to go. This is important."

"Then, let me drive you, Cindy. You shouldn't be driving if you're not feeling well." She rubs her hand in cirlces on my lower back before stepping away. "Give me one second. I'm going to grab my bag."

Before I can object, she dissapears down the hall. And it would be so rude to just leave, so I wait for her in the entry way. I don't want to, but something deeper than mere manners tells me to stay put.

I'm just about to start my downward spiral into overthinking (or into the wooden tiles beneath my feet) when my phone rings in my bag. My eyes roll all by themselves as I pull it out. And it's Levin, so duh I start grinning like a lunatic... then I remember I have this big thing to bring up to him, and it ruins the mood. And it reminds me my body is wrong and that something coul be wrong with the baby and—

I answer and hope that little panicky voice in my head stops feeding my anxiety and my sudden illness.

"What."

"What the fuck."

I say again, frowing. "What?"

"Stop that! Why are you talking to me like I'm your friend or something. Say 'Hey, babe! I was just thinking about you! I miss you! I love you!'"

"Hey, babe! I was just thinking about you. Miss you, love you, blah, blah—" I can't help but start laughing a little. "I'm always thinking about you. And I do love you."

"So, you love me, but you don't miss me?"

"Oh, shut up. What do you need?"

"You." I don't say anything because ew. "Okay, fine." He groans dramatically. "Um, I need you to check something for me."

He has me go to the room and read to him something he wrote on a sticky note, and for those first five minutes on the phone, I'm a little less closer to what seems like death.

"Good?" I ask.

"Good. Thank you, my love."

"Welcome."