Theme(s): Pregnancy, domestic fluff, early pregnancy
The clock is ticking away toward early evening when I hear your keys hit the lock, a familiar jingle of metal that immediately makes me perk up. When you finally step through the door, I can see the way your day went written across your face—the stress of dealing with your inept coworkers, all the meetings that ran long, the barrage of emails that kept landing in your inbox. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on your abdomen as you toe off your shoes. It's a relatively new gesture, but it's already becoming a habit, like some subconscious part of you is eager to remind yourself of the little secret still safely tucked away beneath the fabric of your blouse.
"Hey, you," I say, meeting you in the entryway. Your eyes, though tired, soften at the sight of me.
You drop your messenger bag by the door and walk into my open arms without a word. There's a heaviness to you today that has nothing to do with the tiny life growing within you. I can feel it in the way you melt, your shoulders dropping their professional posture in a much-needed slump.
"Long day?" I ask against your hair, burying my nose in your hair to take in the unmistakable scent of your shampoo mixed with the outside world.
You nod against my chest, your fingers tightening and tangling in the fabric of my shirt. "The longest."
My hands curve around to find the small of your back in a movement that's almost instinctual now, a need to hold you close and shelter you. Your pregnancy is only ten weeks along, and to everyone else, you look the same as always in your sharp work clothes. But I know better. I've been greedily memorizing the subtle changes—the slight curve that's appeared on your stomach, the puffiness of your chest, the new fullness in your face that softens your cheekbones.
"Come sit with me," I whisper, leading you carefully over to the sofa. You release a ragged breath as you follow. It's half laugh, half complaint, and all exhaustion.
When you settle beside me, I tug gently until you're lying with your head in my lap. My fingers thread through your hair, working loose the day's tension. Your eyes flutter closed.
"Is that better?" I ask, like I don't already know the answer.
"Yeah," you murmur, already relaxing for me, guiding my free hand over to settle against your belly. Beneath my palm lies the smallest of bumps, our own special secret, but a treasure just the same.
There's not much more for either of us to say, at least for the moment, while you're busy unwinding from the day. Our fingers intertwine over the place where our love has taken root and begun to grow. For now, there's nothing more important for us to do than lie here together, wrapping our love around the three of us like a warm blanket, right where you’re needed most.
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