Serena Stryker's P. O. V
Groaning, I try to suck in air and flatten my stomach but being eight months pregnant really doesn't help much, especially when slipping on jeans.
Glaring at the jeans I had thrown on the floor, I squat down to lift them up, struggling as I use the bed for supper to bend down. Vowing to my self that one day I will fit in those God forsaken jeans or I'll be damned.
Putting my hands on my hips I look around the room and only now notice the mess I've created with clothes flung here and there. Odd articles of clothing hanging off the back of chairs, on the bed, even one of Damien's shirts hanging on the edge of the cupboards door.
Tears start to cloud my vision as I let out a low sniffle, sadness consuming me in a matter of minutes, "Why doesn't anything fit me anymore?" I mourn.
Raising my hand, I wipe at the tears falling down my face but it's not much use as more come and replace them.
Not being able to take looking at the depressing scene in the room, I make my way to the door and catch sight of the clock, gleefully noticing its time for Damien to be home in a while. A grin erupts on my face as I waddle my way downstairs pulling up my sweats that seem to be fallen down sightly.
Oh so my sweatpants fit but my God damn jeans won't.
Anger courses through me at the mere thought and with one last huff I get off the last step. Not even bothered by the fast mood swings that seem to come and go seconds at a time.
Yawning, I shuffle my way to the living room and practically drop down onto the comfortable sofa as I press play on the finishing series I de used to binge watch. I cringe at the mess around me with all the empty crisp packets and the lone tub of ice cream.
Almost like a vision, I can hear the doctors orders telling me to eat as healthy as possible otherwise it'd be a difficult task to shed weight with all the eating, especially unhealthy eating. I pause momentarily as I re think her words before shrugging and shoving a handful of chips in my mouth.
"Don't worry baby, I won't let you starve." I say as I pat my stomach affectionately.
At this point I wouldn't be surprised if my baby was actually a food baby.
The sound of a car pulling up into the drive reaches my ears, followed by heavy footsteps and the front door opening and closing.
Smiling, I let out a light laugh at his antics. Whenever he comes home from work or leaves the house for a while, Damien always enters and shouts my name out. Almost as if he's expecting someone else to be here instead of me.
"I'm in here." I call out back to him, waiting somewhat impatiently until he finally comes into view.
Black hair askew as they stick up here and there from the countless times he's run his hand through them, blue eyes dull as the only thing that shines through them is tiredness. Eyebrows furrowed as Damien looks the epitome of stress.
Not saying anything, Damien drops onto the sofa besides me, undoing his tie with one hand while wrapping an arm- or well trying to- around my stomach.
"Hi." I whisper meekly, not wanting to disturb the silence as I snuggle further into Damien, entangling my legs with his and wrapping my arms around his firm torso.
"Hey beautiful," he murmurs softly as he burrows his face into the crook of my neck, placing soft kisses to my skin.
"How was it?" I cautiously ask, knowing how Damien hates this entire situation that's going down right now. I'm just hoping it ends soon and in our favour, I can't bare to see Damien coming home haggard and depressed any longer.
YOU ARE READING
Damien Stryker, notorious for his cold hard personality is someone you don't want to get too close to. Unfortunately for Serena Mclane, she doesn't have much of a choice. Always at the mercy of her family's name and legacy, Serena has to do as her f...