“Karina helped me pick them. She said something about them flowing around the middle.” He gestures vaguely. “Whatever that means.”
I close my eyes and sigh. “It means it hides the bump for a while.”
He nods, sadness sneaking into his features. “It shouldn’t be something to be hidden.”
“Why? So you can show off that you’re going to be a father?”
He steps into the bathroom and rests his hand on the doorknob. His eyes are on me, but it’s like he’s looking past me at something else. The closet? The dresses? The future? I search his eyes for an answer, but all I find is an inscrutable sadness.
He’s keeping something from me.
“No,” he finally says with conviction. “So you can show off how good you look as a mother.”
Without waiting for my response, he closes the door with a soft but resolute click, as if to punctuate his compliment.
I cross my arms.Does he think saying something like that every day is going to earn him brownie points? Does he think it absolves him?
My brows dip together as I approach the closet. It’s exactly as Pavel said. There are a few new dresses hanging on the rack. He must have brought them in while I was sleeping. My senses spike as I reach for them, noting the scent of his cologne lingering like memories of kisses on the fabric.
I bristle.It won’t work.
The sound of the shower sputters to life in the bathroom. This is his usual routine. He greets me at the bathroom door, says something nice, and then takes a shower. In about twenty minutes, he’ll drift out of the bathroom wearing a towel around his waist and talk about how he’s going to work on some things in the office.
Oddly enough, the predictability of his movements keeps me going. It gives me a schedule to follow—or one to avoid as necessary. I can spend an extra few minutes in the closet or head downstairs early if I don’t want to see or speak to him.
And in those moments, I can close my eyes and pretend that I’m alone. Just me and my growing child: no Pavel, no war, no Cardona, and certainly no fear of what could happen to us and anyone else unfortunate enough to get entangled with us.
But it’s not real. It won’t ever be real.
And the thought sends my heart racing. My chest heaves as I take one deep breath after another, and my head spins. It takes several seconds for me to reach a semblance of calm. By the time I’ve pulled on a dress, I’m still coming down from my whirlwind panic, trying to ignore the way my body threatens to regress back into that familiar fight-or-flight mode.
He’s been giving me space. He’s been giving me options.
He’s been getting me new clothes.
I turn left and then right to inspect the dress.
It won’t last, Liya. I pinch my lips together to keep from sobbing.Itneverlasts.
I smooth my fingers over the black dress where it flares at the waist, examining the breathable, stretchy cotton with pink lilies printed all over. A white collar decorates the neckline, and the sleeves stop short just over my shoulders. It’s cute. It’s my style. It fits perfectly.
And it hides the bump.
I frown while holding my gut.For now.
The shower cuts off. The drain gurgles.
Has it been twenty minutes already?
I straighten my back and fluff my hair around my shoulders. The dress looks amazing. But it’s not going to win me back, not by a long shot.
Still…It’s nice. And I like that he picked it out for me.
I manage to escape the bedroom and hit the stairs before Pavel reappears. He may have gotten me some new clothes, but I don’t have to stick around and show them off.
No matter how much I want to see him admire me wearing them.
***