Page 96 of Thorns That Bloom
I’ve wasted enough time, so I waddle back to the office. Without the cloud of stress and worry hanging over my head, the hours fly by.
I click away, filing information, inputting data, and as I look around the room, I realize I’ve gone through nearly all the backlog. It feels like yesterday when I started. Now, I’m almost done.
After I come back from parental leave, things might be a little different. I’ve gotten used to my little private area, but I don’t even hate the idea of moving into the office with the others that much anymore…
A lot of changes are coming. Pleasant changes.
I finish my shift and head home for a bit. Theo sends me updates every so often—about leaving work, about being excited and nervous, and then apologizing for texting too much. Snacking on some popcorn to hold myself over until another of his scrumptious meals, I clean up the apartmentand then rest with my laptop sitting atop my belly.
With my newfound optimism, I decide to do something unimaginable. I go into the hidden folder in my email for the first time since leaving and open the countless emails from my ex-colleagues and acquaintances who reached out following the incident.
I wasn’t ready to read them before. I was too angry and hurt.
Now…it’s like the air needs to be cleansed, and that includes dealing with what I’ve been putting off. Many of the people I’d seen every single day for years have said nothing about what happened. It was supposed to be a secret, but something so serious quickly spread through the company anyway. Some alphas stood with my rapists. They, perhaps feeling threatened in some weird way, agreed that it must have been the pheromones that caused it.Mypheromones.
Most people stayed quiet on the matter. They were indifferent. Or so I thought…
In actuality, I find countless emails from men and women expressing their condolences, worries, and regret over not saying anything to me. Over not speaking up against those alphas or providing more support.
I feel a little stupid reading them, knowing I could’ve felt less alone if I had just opened them instead of pushing it aside and acting like I didn’t need anyone or anything.
Sometimes, it feels good to be helped. I wish I’d understood that earlier.
I don’t have time to read or respond to all of them, but I send out a couple of candid responses back. At least so that people know I’m alive and well.
By the time I’m done, it’s time for me to get ready and head out. I take a quick shower, brush my hair back, and dress up in some comfortable clothes. I wear one of my maternity sets—dark blue, cotton drawstring pants, and a matching long-sleeve shirt. Studying myself in the mirror, I realize how damn huge I’ve become.
How can Theo find this…attractive?
“No offense, little melon,” I say to the baby. She stays unusually calm inside, probably because of the shower. She enjoys those. I imagine the sound of falling water makes her fall asleep.
As I run my finger over the bump, I realize that I haven’t really taken any pictures. My entire pregnancy, and there’s no more than maybe two images to show for it.
At the beginning, I was scared and unsure. No matter how much I wanted her and cherished her, sometimes looking at my swelling abdomen only reminded me of what happened. What they did to make it be that way. Then I got distracted. With my time almost running out, a wave of fear hits me. What if I miss this when it’s gone and I’ll have nothing to look back on?
I remember Mom’s messages, always asking me for updates. I’ve mostly ignored her, too.
Sighing, I go to the nursery. For some strange reason, I’m being pulled in by the cute bunny plush Mom sent with some of her old baby accessories she wanted me to have. That was weeks ago. I take the bunny in my hand, curiously turning it around. Apparently, it was mine. I don’t recall it at all, besides maybe seeing it in some of my baby pictures. It’s clean and well-kept for its age.
Moving my hand with it toward my belly, I compare how small it is. She is probably bigger than the plush now. Smiling, I pull my shirt up and take a picture. I feel silly doing it, but I think Mom will appreciate it.
The notification of Theo’s message pops up as I’m sending the photo.
Are you on your way? (you asked me to remind you because of pregnancy brain, in case you forgot)
Snorting, I put the bunny on top of the dresser, sitting it up nice and tidy.
Having a pee, then on my way. So demanding… *cocky frowning emoji*
?
Theo and I walk into the health center. Together. The long hallway with daffodil yellow walls leads us toward the room at the end, where many pregnant people flood in. Theo keeps glancing at me nervously—mostly when I’m not looking at him—like he’s been the entire way here.
“What?” I finally blurt out, half amused and half annoyed.
“It’s just that you look really nice with your hair up like that,” he says, staring at me even more intently now. I have to grab his wrist and pull him to the side so he doesn’t walk into one of the couples passing us with how distracted he is.
I frown, pursing my lips playfully. “Better than with it down?”
