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with your arms around my body

Her stomach remained the same, flat and unmoving, no matter how many times she lifted her shirt up in front of the mirror, turning sideways to check for any sign of change. Logic told her it was far too early, it'd been barely over a month since the night that had drastically altered their future, but Axelle checked anyway.

The only proof they had was the sonogram. It rested on the bedside table of their temporary home and her eyes sought it whenever she needed reassurance. It helped, if only slightly, but while she looked at it and brushed her thumb over the blob in black and white, a fragile sense of calm would settle over her.

She knew that Cepheus needed this reassurance, too; he hadn’t said it aloud, but she could tell. Every morning and night his hands found her stomach, his fingertips brushing over her porcelain skin as if willing the change to be there. There was nothing to feel yet, no tangible proof of the fact that there was a life that they’d created inside of her.

Maybe once her body began to change, when her stomach would start slowly swelling up, it would all become real. Maybe then, the anxiety over that fragile little life still clinging to existence would ease. And maybe when they finally felt the first flutter of movement, the future would take shape - no longer a murky dream covered in fog, but something tangible, clear, reassuring.

It was hard to find their footing when separating dreams and hopes from reality became an overwhelming task, chaos hiding in plain sight. But there were Cepheus' hands - the hands that had put her back together piece by piece, the hands that offered her a ring that marked their choice to build a life together, the hands that caressed her stomach - they were her grounding point, the confirmation that everything was going to be alright.