She never touches herself like this, and the sight of her embracing her belly with tears in her eyes, soaking wet in the rain, hair slicked down to her face, is soul crushing. I don’t just want to protect the baby at this moment. I want to protect her. I want to comfort her. I want to hold her. I want to burn the world to the ground for making her hurt like this. Her shoulders quake as she begins to cry. “I’m such a fuckup.” My chest concaves as I pull her back under the roof, my hand pushing the strands of hair stuck to her face. “No, you’re not.”
