Shrinking Novels & Stories

Aika giggles while yells “Yes, we are!” I am surprised by his sayings and Aika’s, while I tell him, “Hey! I'm not... I just... Hum... Forget it. Do not look.” He responds with amusement, “Fine!” Aika looks at me concentrated while telling me, “Okay, do it like he did. Think instead of taking out, retract.” I do what they both tell me, when I start to feel my bones return to their original position. Totally disgusting. I said, “Yug... That was disgusting.”

“Take it away. I won’t be eating it, and don’t come here anymore. I don’t want to see you again.” However, Carl ignored me. “Be good, Natalie. Stop throwing a tantrum. Once you’re all better, we’ll meet my parents, and you’ll get another baby in the future.” Getting impatient, I flung the bowl he held onto the floor. “Are you done?! Get out!” The bowl shattered to pieces with a loud crash. Carl started to tear up. As he got choked up, he said, “Natalie, can we really not go back to the way things were before? I—”

The words read, "Why did you move out?" He had just sent it when a red dot showed beside his text. There was an alert that his message could not be delivered to the recipient. That red exclamation mark was so jarring that Emmett froze briefly. However, he refused to accept his fate and sent more texts. He then received several more exclamation marks. He felt like someone was choking him as he looked at his phone. His throat was so constricted that he could almost suffocate. He clutched his neck tightly while his face turned bright red.

"That's how you build a real bond." Between my recovery and round-the-clock feedings, my body was completely hollowed out. The baby cried nonstop, and my hair came out in clumps. For an entire month, I teetered on the edge of a breakdown. Fiona even sent taunting messages. [Tessa, so what if you married Jasper? The one he really loves has always been me.] She had attached a video of the two of them tangled together. The video was filled with his heavy breathing and her soft moans. The sounds were unmistakable.

Because shifting would mean acknowledging the physical pull I was feeling, and acknowledging that would mean admitting that I wanted him, and admitting that would mean being vulnerable again after he'd just established boundaries about my inability to be all in. But not shifting meant sitting here, hyperaware of every centimeter between us, feeling like I was choosing control over connection. "You're doing it again," Eli said quietly. "The thing where you calculate proximity like it's a strategic decision instead of just... existing near someone you care about." "I'm trying not to push," I said. "You're trying not to be present," Eli corrected. "There's a difference. Pushing is aggressive. N