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Chapter 102 – Arya's POV
"Seven Months In, and I Feel Like a Walking Balloon"
Seven months.
That's how far along I was.
And at this point, I was certain I'd either roll into labor or burst like an overfilled balloon.
Every part of my body felt swollen. My face? Puffy. My fingers? Sausages. My feet? Nonexistent. I hadn't seen my toes in three weeks and bending over was a military mission that required planning, prayer, and Damon's assistance.
I sat on the edge of the bed that morning, huffing like I'd run a marathon after brushing my teeth.
"This is it," I whispered, glaring at my belly. "I've become a blimp. A hormonal, waddling blimp."
Damon walked in at that exact moment, holding a bowl of fruit and wearing a hopeful smile. "I brought grapes. Cold, just how you like them."
I looked up at him, deadpan. "Did you wash them in sparkling water like I asked?"
His smile faltered. "Sparkling—what?"
I scowled. "Forget it. I don't want grapes anymore."
He stared at me, helpless.
"I just want to lie down and cry because my thighs are sticking together and my back feels like it's going to snap in half."
He placed the bowl gently on the nightstand and knelt in front of me. "Your thighs are gorgeous. Your back is doing its best. And you, Arya, are still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."
I rolled my eyes. "You have to say that. You did this to me."
He grinned. "I'm not sorry."
"You will be," I muttered darkly, "when I'm giving birth and crushing your hand."
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After breakfast (which I barely touched because everything tasted like cardboard), I tried to get dressed to step outside for some air.
I couldn't even fit into my maternity jeans anymore.
I groaned in frustration, standing in front of my wardrobe in nothing but a stretched-out tank top and Damon's boxers.
Damon walked by the door again and paused. "You okay?"
"No," I snapped. "Nothing fits. I look like a balloon in a headscarf. My skin itches. I feel sweaty. And—why are you still standing there?! Go!"
He didn't move. Just watched me quietly for a moment, then came in and grabbed one of his oversized button-down shirts.
He helped me into it like I was a fragile glass vase, then rolled up the sleeves.
"You're not a balloon," he whispered. "You're a vessel. And what you're doing is incredible."
Tears sprang into my eyes instantly. "Why are you being so sweet? I'm not even nice to you."
He kissed my forehead. "Because I love you. Hormonal wrath and all."
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I went outside to sit in the garden for a while, trying to feel human again.
Liam came skipping out minutes later with a tiny notebook in hand.
"Mommy!" he called, plopping beside me. "I wrote a story!"
"Really? About what?"
"You!"
I blinked, already bracing myself.
"It's called The Giant Mommy Who Could Still Do Everything."
I laughed despite myself. "That title is already suspicious."
He opened the notebook and began reading aloud, his voice animated.
> "Once upon a time, there was a mommy who was growing a baby inside her tummy. She felt like a balloon, but she could still paint, walk, cook my cereal, and yell at Daddy when he forgot her pickles."
I laughed harder, tears threatening again.
> "Even when she got tired or cried a lot or took naps after walking for just two minutes, she was still the coolest mommy ever."
He closed the notebook proudly. "The end!"
I reached for him and pulled him into a side hug. "That was… perfect."
"You're not really a balloon," he added with a giggle.
"Thanks, I guess."
"You're more like a soft bouncy castle. But the cute kind!"
I gasped. "Liam!"
He darted off laughing while I pretended to throw a slipper at him.
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Later that evening, as I soaked in the tub, I stared at my swollen belly rising above the water.
There were new stretch marks along my sides—like little silver lightning bolts.
Once, I might've hated them.
Now? I rubbed my fingers across them and felt proud.
They were proof of everything I'd overcome. Every tear. Every doubt. Every ache.
The old Arya, the one who once feared being vulnerable again after Damon broke her heart, was slowly healing. This new version of me — heavier, slower, messier — she was strong in a different way.
And somehow… Damon had loved me through it all.
He never backed away from the worst of me.
He kissed my tears, massaged my swollen ankles, and bought me a strawberry-mint-salami milkshake at 2 a.m. without blinking.
So yes.
I still felt like an elephant.
But I was an elephant that was safe. That was loved. That was finally… at peace.
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End of Chapter 102 – Arya's POV