I'm quite proud of this one, to be honest with you. Read and enjoy, chicas.
She lays against the duvet, her eyes focused on the ceiling and her hands wrapped around her engorged stomach. The reddish hue of dawn begins to tint her bedroom, and she tips over onto her side, reaching across the bed to feel empty sheets. The place he usually occupies is cold and stiff, and her heart aches to know that his off-planet conference lasts three more days. She sits for a few minutes longer in the early light, unwittingly rubbing her stomach to alleviate the heavy pressure there. With an exhausted sigh, she rises from the bedsheets, shuffling out into the hallway in her overgrown nightgown. Without realizing it, she ends up in his office, the papers still neatly organized on the desk. She smiles sadly at the sight, and moves to sit in his abandoned chair. It's cold, rigid, and adds more pressure to her back, but she snuggles closer to it nonetheless. His scent drifts from it; a tingling mixture of sanded wood and spices, and she inhales deeply. Within moments, she feels it- the light pressure in her swollen abdomen. It isn't until it jabs her ferociously that she realizes what it is. Her child is kicking. With teary eyes and a soft smile, she inhales again, and once more she feels the jolt of her baby. She lets out a breathy laugh and leans against his chair, every so often breathing in his scent, and every so often receiving a kick in response.