More Than You Know (h.s)

Chapter Fifty One.

ROSALIE'S POV ❁

- Four Years Ago -

"C'mon Rosie, you can't lay there all day. Why don't you let some light into the room and try to perk yourself up a little bit." Harry pinches my toes playfully at the bottom of the bed as he walks past me towards the windows. I keep my eyes shut and ignore his loud voice while I continue to mope in my spot on the bed.

"Don't you dare open those blinds. I'll lock you out of the bedroom if you even try." I state in a monotone voice without even bothering to look at him. I hear his movements cease, but only for a few seconds.

"Well, I'm willing to take that risk. It's not like you'd be paying attention to me whether I was in here or locked out. How about some breakfast? I could make French toast and I know you can't deny that a freshly brewed cup of coffee doesn't sound splendid right now." He opens the curtains with ease and bright daylight immediately floods the bedroom. I sit up like a rabid animal and jump out of bed to move towards the windows.

"I told you not to open them! I'm not just saying that to waste my breath, Harry!" I gently shove him away from the area and shut the blinds once again, then pad back towards the bed.

Once I'm back under the duvet and my head is nuzzled into the pillow, I hear Harry's footsteps on the floor. They're heavy and angry as he walks away from the bed, then slams the door behind him as he exits the room. I don't feel the slightest bit guilty or apologetic.

After nearly twenty minutes, I find myself dozing off once again. My head and heart are both heavy as thoughts of newborns and pregnancy fills my mind for the millionth time this week. My hand rubs against my flat stomach while weak tears begin to pool in my eyes.

After one month of constant sex and praying for some miracle pregnancy to happen, Harry and I went to the doctor last week. We both had a checkup on our reproductive organs just to make sure we weren't going crazy and that making a baby didn't just happen with the snap of ones fingers, but the news we received was nothing near what we could have expected.

Harry's results from his doctor came out healthy and perfectly functioning while mine were the exact opposite. Some birth defect that had gone unnoticed in my ovaries when I was younger was now the reason that I needed a miracle to get pregnant, and then another miracle to be able to carry the baby full-term and have it come out happy and healthy.

The problem wasn't going to go away no matter how many hours I spent moping in bed and crying into my pillowcase. Harry and I have barely spoken all week, let alone snuggled up together, hugged, or even kissed. I'm sure I look about as unappealing as I feel after a whole day lazing around in bed.

Within an hour, I've managed to remove myself from the tangled sheets and get up to use the restroom. I eyeball the large shower while running a brush through my tangled hair, then in a split second decision, turn on the water and strip out of my clothes.

Once I'm under the hot water and my skin is wet, I shut my eyes and hold my arms over my chest like a security blanket. I feel as though I lost a baby that I didn't even have in the first place now knowing that I'll never be able to have even one child with the man that I love. Harry's wanted to be parents since a month into us dating and I've been surprised all week that he isn't responding to the news the same way that I am.

As thoughts of him begin to swarm my mind for the first time in days, I suddenly feel guilty for treating him the way that I have been. We've been married for barely one year and I'm already becoming the annoying wife that lays in bed all day and doesn't ever want to show affection or even just talk anymore.