Hiccup You Just Gestured To All Of Me Mga Nobela at Kwento

he exclaims, his voice a mix of shock and curiosity. "The baby has the hiccups!" I say, still giggling. Vincent's eyes light up with amusement as he watches my belly move again. "That's so strange but amazing," he says in awe, his hand automatically reaching out to feel the tiny hiccups. Vincent gently strokes my belly, feeling the rhythmic movements caused by the baby's hiccups. His touch is tender, his fingertips tracing the contours of my skin. "It's like...little flutters," he muses, his voice filled with warmth.

I raised my head to look at him and he was already staring at me with a slightly confused expression. “Why would you care so much if I get in trouble?” He asked. I got slightly speechless with what he just asked me as we remained to stare at each other. I gulped as I tried to think of anything to say to him, but in the end, I’m clueless. Then, I suddenly had hiccups. He couldn’t help but laugh at me quietly as he finally let go of my hand. “Are you okay?” I covered my mouth as I continued having hiccups before I walked away from him.

She nods once, a crisp clean gesture that means everything she’s seen so far is in perfect working order too. I raise my hands to my lips, cupping them around my mouth. “Fan out!”

He touched me "Are you okay Cardin? My footsteps weren't even loud. Is everything okay with you?" "Don't touch me!" I hissed, shrugging his hand off my shoulder "Try touching me again and see what happens to you" is he chewing gum? "Can you chew any louder?!" I spat "what the fuck is wrong with you? Do I need to teach you how to chew?"

*STOMACH GRUMBLE* I accidentally let out a low chuckle after hearing his stomach grumble from his hunger and he started shaking my shoulder while barking which I calmed myself and stop chuckling at his stomach whom just grumble out.We then proceed to the apartment and change clothes before I started cooking some food for our late dinner after running away from the paparazzi earlier and got into the ferris wheel while I also knocked out from sleepiness. *PRICK* The oil that I added earlier from the shrimp started to be in a chaotic mode which I got startled since a portion of the oil went into my arm skin which I cursed out from the pain but still frying it until it fry deep.

I exclaimed while spelling his name. I looked at him who chuckled pretentiously in a cute way. I'm not lying, my stomach feels more and more nauseous. But I tried to hold it in, for Key's sake. I will do anything, for the sake of the company as well. Not long, I immediately took the fork and knife. Then I want to cut the meat that is in front of me. However, before my hands cut the meat. The man's hand accidentally touched me, damn it, I was nauseous and really got goosebumps. "Let me cut it for you handsome!" he exclaimed as he winked at me.

His eyes moved over my face like he was trying to figure something out. I quickly used the back of my palm to wipe my mouth, pretending like I’d been trying to hold something down. “I was feeling nauseous,” I said. My voice came out steady enough. “I thought I was about to vomit.” Ciro didn’t say anything immediately. He just looked at me. “Are you okay?” he asked. I hesitated for a second before placing my hand over my stomach. His eyes dropped there immediately. My fingers pressed lightly against my stomach. I kept my face neutral. Calm. Like it wasn’t a big deal.

"He is a fortunate man." ~*~ ~Ezinne~ I felt a wave of confusion as the spicy taste of the soup hit me. I started coughing and reached out for the glass of water on the table, but Garrick was quicker. He snatched it away and, to my shock, slapped me hard across the face. I stumbled back, cradling my cheek, tears welling up in my eyes.

“What happened? Are you hurting?” I shook my head quickly, wide-eyed. “The bean—it’s—it’s—” I stammered, pressing his hand against my stomach. “Feel it!” He blinked, confused, then went still when another tiny jolt rippled under his palm. His brows furrowed. “What the…” “It’s hiccuping!” I cried, half-laughing, half-panicking. “Why is it hiccuping? Should it be hiccuping? Is that normal? Oh my god—”

I ask, voice rough. She frowns, blinking slowly as if it’s hard to concentrate. “He bumped into me. Hurt my butt.” A hiccup. “I hit a scarecrow guy …” a burp, “… real good.” She throws a lazy punch into the air, missing everything but my heart. She keeps talking — hiccuping, slurring, rambling something about ‘our baby’, and about a wheel and a photo and a cup for moods — none of it fully connecting.