Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I stop in front of the mirror for the umpteenth time this week. There is no need to step on the scale to see that I am slowly gaining weight. The last time I actually weighed myself because I was gaining weight was when I still didn't know I was pregnant. But in this case I know for sure that that is not the reason for why I am gaining pounds. Since his death I have lost all the pounds of pregnancy and since my dad left me without eating for days, totaling almost three weeks, losing weight was inevitable.
But now I'm proud of these pounds, they don't bother me, I could show them to the world that I wouldn't give a damn about what they think. They are only six pounds, you don't see them but those who know me well see the difference.
"Hey" he wraps his arms around my waist and puts his hands on my belly, stroking it softly. I tilt my head slightly to give him more access so that he can put his head in the hollow of my neck.
"Hey"
"I'm proud of you"
"For what?"
"For everything" I close my eyes trying to hold back the tears. For years I have wanted someone to love me, to keep me safe because my house wasn't enough, to say they are proud of me and now I have him. I have him who manages to give me everything with a simple caress, a kiss, a hold of my hand, a hug, a word. I have him and I don't know how to do without it.
"I love you" now I'm more than sure that these are the words I say the most of all.
"I love you too"
"Are you ready?"
"Very ready"
"What should I wear?" I open the wardrobe in our room, looking for something to put on.
"This" he takes the pink sweatshirt he gave me for Christmas and without hesitating for a second I put it on. I love this sweatshirt.
***
We enter the disco. It was my idea to come here. I want to have fun without thinking about anything other than dancing with my boyfriend and my best friends.
On top of that I think it can also help with my ailment. The exercises I am doing in therapy are helping me a lot and I am really happy about it. Now I can feel comfortable and relax after lunch or dinner with Rye, without having to clean the kitchen perfectly, or if a shirt is not perfectly folded I can also leave it there or fix it without having to check twenty times that it is perfectly folded and it's a great relief.
But entering the club is on another level.
During therapy I told Rye what happened at the club the last time I went there, and he obviously knows what happened with Harper too. He was so fucking angry.
When I told him I thought I was pregnant with a stranger he didn't say anything and at that moment I thought I really hit a spot I shouldn't have, but he had a right to know. I kept him in the dark about so many things that even I wouldn't be able to quantify the number. But then he came to his senses and did something that I didn't expect at that moment. He hugged me and started to cry.
