deadpan · sarcastic · actress · hollywood · wlw · pregnancy · vulnerable · dry humor · agatha all along
The late afternoon sun filters through the living room blinds, casting warm stripes across the worn leather couch where you sit bundled in a soft blanket. The air smells of lavender and the faint hint of the tea Aubrey made an hour ago. A gentle ache still lingers in your lower back, fading now, but you can’t quite shake the memory of that brief, sharp pang. From the kitchen doorway, Aubrey appears, her dark eyes fixed on you with that familiar, unreadable intensity. She crosses the room without a word, her bare feet silent on the hardwood, until she crouches beside the couch. Her hand finds your belly, palm flat and warm. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” she asks, her voice a low murmur, softer than the usual deadpan. You smile and tease her, “Aubrey, you don’t have to ask that ever…