Jude kissed my forehead tenderly, his lips lingering against my skin. "I’ll bring you another slice from the kitchen."

"But that’s for the others," I protested weakly, even though I really did want more cake. "We shouldn’t eat it all."

"They’ll understand," he assured me with a small smile.

Then he carefully detached himself from our cuddled position, which made me grumble unhappily at the loss of his warmth and presence.

He chuckled and flicked my nose playfully. "I’ll be back soon, sweetheart."

The moment he left, I felt my lower stomach twinge with pressure and realized I needed to use the bathroom. I stood up carefully from the couch, one hand automatically going to support my belly, and made my way to our private bathroom.

After I was done relieving myself, I washed my hands thoroughly with the soap and turned to leave. But my eyes caught my reflection in the large mirror above the sink, and I found myself stopping, staring at the person looking back at me.

I blinked slowly, really looking at myself for the first time in days.

And that’s when those insidious voices started creeping in. It had been so long since I’d had this kind of episode, since the ugly dark thoughts had clawed their way to the surface.

Look how fat you’ve gotten. So ugly and bloated. Maybe that’s why Jude was so quick to detach himself from you on the couch. He couldn’t stand being pressed against your disgusting body anymore.

I tried to blink the thoughts away, but they kept coming.

You ate everything, the entire slice of cake, while Jude barely had any. You didn’t even think to share properly. You inconsiderate, selfish being.

My hands started to tremble and breathing picked up.

Look at your face, so round and puffy! Look at your stomach protruding obscenely. Look at your thighs that have gotten so thick. You’re revolting.

The bathroom door suddenly opened, and Jude entered frantically, moving quickly like he’d sensed through our bond that something was wrong. He immediately pulled me into a tight embrace, his strong arms wrapping around me protectively.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" he said softly against my hair, his voice thick with concern.

I looked up at him with blurry vision, tears already forming and threatening to spill over. "Am I ugly?" The question came out before I could stop myself, tumbling from my lips unbidden, and I wanted to turn away in shame, but he didn’t allow it. His hands gently but firmly kept my face tilted toward his.

"Sweet—" he started, but I cut him off.

"Am I overweight now?" I said, and my voice cracked. "I ate everything without letting you have barely any. I’m so selfish and greedy and—" I touched my face with trembling fingers. "I’m so bloated. My face is fat and round. My legs are huge. My stomach is..." I trailed off into a sob.

Jude carefully lifted me into his arms and carried me from the bathroom into our bedroom, turning on the soft lights so we could see each other properly. He laid me down on the bed with such gentleness and then stared at me with a softened gaze that made my breath catch. His eyes held so much affection, so much love and trust.

But eyes could lie, couldn’t they? Or do eyes never lie?

Before I could spiral further into those dark thoughts, he started kissing me. Every single inch of my body with tenderness; it made me gasp.

He trailed kisses down to my legs, pressing his lips against my calves and thighs and knees. "I love them, sweetheart," he murmured between each kiss. "Every single part of you."

Then he kissed my face, my hands, and my arms, his tongue coming out to lick every inch of the stretch marks.

"You are beautiful," he said firmly, and I panted, feeling delirious from what he was doing to me. "So fucking beautiful it takes my breath away every time."

"You’re just saying that because I’m your mate," I said in a small voice. "Because the bond makes you see me differently than I actually am."

He ignored my words and instead trailed more kisses to my stomach, lingering there, pressing his lips against the small swell where our baby was growing. “Your stomach is not bloated but big because our baby is there growing.” He kissed my stomach, and my breath hitched.

“Jude—”

“Half of us are here.” He stared at me deeply then kissed my stomach again. “Hear your mom, little one?” he asked softly, talking directly to our unborn child. "She thinks she’s not beautiful. Can you believe that?"

And then I felt something I’d never felt before—a movement; the baby just kicked.

I tried to sit up immediately, my hands flying to my stomach in wonder and shock, but Jude gently pushed me back down onto the pillows.

"Did you feel that?" I gasped.

"Can you see?" Jude said with a wide smile, his eyes bright with joy. "Even the baby agrees with me. You are beautiful, sweetheart. Not just because of the mate bond but because you truly are beautiful both inside and out. If you could see yourself the way I see you..."

He kissed my stomach again, right where the baby had kicked, and our little one responded with another flutter of movement as if agreeing with

"You’re perfect," Jude whispered against my skin. "Every single part of you. Your face that lights up when you smile. Your brows that furrow when you think, your eyes that twinkle when you talk about your passion, and your legs that carry you and our baby. Your stomach that’s growing our child. Your heart that’s so big and loving despite everything you’ve been through. You’re perfect, and I love you, and our baby loves you, and nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise."

Tears were streaming down my face, and I sniffed. Jude always has a way with words that always warms my heart and makes me feel loved, cherished, and wanted.

"I love you," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he said and kissed my stomach one more time. "Both of you. More than anything in this world."