The Sentinels' Mother

One : Ultrasound

"Eros, do these pants make me look fat?" I asked nonchalantly, glancing at the curvaceous figure reflected in the mirror stationed on the wall close to our bathroom. 

Ever since I lost the ability to see my own two feet, Eros made it his job to make me more comfortable by any means possible, including remodeling the room for my own convenience.

Since it was rather difficult for me to see my toes or stretch down to touch them, Eros attached this fancy, full-length mirror to the wall a couple of weeks ago.

I don't know why I even had this strange need to see if my toes were still there. Maybe it's just a psychological matter for me, since I don't even clip my toenails anymore. 

Eros was the one who clips them. In fact, he became my personal nail technician, dietitian—my everything—in the span of four months. 

And I felt kind of bad, but I can't do much with how tired I kept getting nowadays.

If I'm not eating then I'm sleeping all day.

Literally.

Speaking of that, something mortifying happened a couple of days ago. And by mortifying, I mean downright horrifying and unforgivable.

Just last week, I fell asleep while Eros was going down on me.

I swear to God that it was not because he was bad or the lovemaking was boring or anything. 

My brain just shut down on me and the next thing I knew, I was dead asleep. I didn't even wake up until four in the afternoon the next day. 

Just thinking about it made me feel terrible!

Could you imagine how Eros must have felt? 

The last thought made me grimace.

"It's fine, Emira. You were tired," he said, dropping some papers onto the nightstand before he made way over to me.

Eros' dark hair was still wet from his shower. I could see a drop of water slide down from the side of his face toward his prominent jawline before it disappeared beneath his grey shirt.

"I'm so sorry, Eros. If I ever do it again, I give you permission to slap me awake," I apologized with all the sincerity I could muster, feeling rather guilty about what had happened.

"You're tired easily because of the pregnancy. It's normal, Emira," he replied, pulling my unresisting body against his hard chest.

My shoulders immediately dropped, and I felt at ease again as I lay my head against Eros.

"You can always make it up to me later," he mischievously murmured against my ear, running his lips along the rim of the sensitive appendage.

Goosebumps traveled up the expanse of my arms, and I could feel my body heat up like a stainless steel pot on the stove.

"You didn't answer my previous question, Eros." I cleared my throat and immediately changed the subject in case I made a dumb decision and fell into Eros' honey-filled trap that could lead to long hours of "grueling labor."

Eros sighed regretfully and answered, "Those pants make you look fat, but it's a sexy kind of fat."

I breathed out a sigh of relief, not because Eros confirmed that I looked fat in the pants, but because he told me the truth. 

Did you know how many men lie about this?

My own grandpa lied one too many times to appease my grandma in the past.

Although it was nice of my grandpa, I was glad Eros wasn't like that. 

I would rather he be truthful than tell me lies just to make me happy.