Tough Love

Chap. 60 • "Stressed"

Trimester 1
Month 2, Week 2
Aya Weathers

"No, I'm not bringing you with me next time and that's final." Me and Tory were in the studio going back and forth about whether or not I should bring him to my next appointment.

"Why not though? I ain't even do nothing?" He played clueless.

"You told the nurse you were my baby daddy!" I widened my eyes.

"Did I lie though?" He questioned with puckered lips.

"Yes, which is exactly why I'm not bringing you next time." I shook my head.

"I told you, if Chris doesn't take responsibility, which he didn't, then I wanna be the pappy!" He pouted.

"Okay, I'm sitting right here." Chris spoke up with a confused look on his face. Wish you weren't.

"That's not how that works, at all," I rolled my eyes. "Which reminds me, Chris, do you have any known medical issues? Or any in your family?"

"I don't think that concerns you." He muttered, causing my eye to twitch. I cringed my fists and felt the heat in my body rush to my head.

"You know what—"

"Aya—" Tory placed a hand on my shoulder to calm me down, but I pushed it off.

"No! Look here you bleached haired, bony bodied, bitter bitch!" I shouted. Chris looked at me like I had lost my mind.

"Aya, chill out." Tory mumbled to me.

"I don't give a single fuck if you don't want to be in your child's life, your denial doesn't mean shit to me. But as a mother, I'm going to do what the fuck I can to make sure my baby is healthy and nothing goes wrong. I've miscarried before and I'll be damned if I let that happen again because of you. I've been biting my tongue this whole time, but now you're pissing me off!" I used wild gestures to prevent myself from chucking my shoe at his head.

Chris looked at me with the darkest of eyes, the straightest it faces, and a slight jaw clench. Normally, I would be intimidated, but today I had my hormones and built up anger to keep me fueled.

"Bipolar disorder, PTSD, and ADHD, if you must know." He said simply before turning his attention to his phone. I sighed deeply and slumped back in my seat, proud of myself for finally saying something about his behavior.

"Diaries of an angry pregnant woman." Tory said before taking a sip of my caramel frappuccino.

"Stop drinking my shit!" I snatched it from him and took a large sip myself.

"You literally have a fat ass cup of ice sitting right there. I bought this for you!" He snatched it back from me.

"I don't care. Ice is a snack, that's my drink."

•

Christopher Brown

As the two of them continued to go back and forth about whether ice should be considered a food or a drink, I couldn't help but to stare at her. She had a glow to her that was much different from the last time. I heard that when you're pregnant, you get this sort of glow to you, but I didn't know that was a literal statement.

I found myself staring down at her stomach. Her shirt wasn't too big, but it wasn't tight either. Yet, I could see her stomach poking out slightly. Subconsciously, I furrowed my brows and diverted my eyes up to her face.

There were bags under her eyes, but she didn't look tired. Her cheeks were rosy and I could see the trail of dried tears, but she didn't look sad. Had she been crying?