Chapter 37: Jude
1569 Words
Five months.I was five months pregnant.Every morning, I stood in front of the mirror with both hands resting on my growing bump, smiling like an i***t.
“There you are.”
I rubbed gentle circles over my stomach.
“You’re getting so big.”
The little flutter beneath my hand made me laugh.
“You heard me, didn’t you?”
I loved being pregnant.
I loved every appointment where the doctor smiled.
Every tiny milestone.
Every new ultrasound photo.
Every shopping trip that somehow ended with me buying far more baby clothes than any child could possibly wear.
The nursery was almost overflowing.
Tiny onesies.
Little socks.
Blankets so soft I couldn’t stop touching them.
Books.
Stuffed animals.
Adrian joked one evening that our baby already had a better wardrobe than he did.
He wasn’t entirely wrong.
I simply couldn’t help myself.
If I saw something adorable…
I bought it.
Immediately.
⸻
There was only one problem.
One very…
Very unfortunate problem.
Adrian.
I couldn’t stand him.
Not because he’d done anything wrong.
He hadn’t.
Not once.
In fact…
He was probably being the sweetest husband on earth.
Which somehow made everything worse.
⸻
The way he breathed.
Annoying.
The way he smelled.
Annoying.
His expensive cologne.
Annoying.
The way his hair fell across his forehead.
Annoying.
His voice.
Annoying.
His suits.
Annoying.
The way he smiled at me.
Especially annoying.
I couldn’t explain it.
Even I knew it didn’t make any sense.
But the moment he walked into a room…
My entire body wanted him exactly three steps farther away.
⸻
One night I woke up in tears.
Adrian reached over instinctively.
“Baby?”
The moment his hand brushed my shoulder…
I burst into tears.
“Don’t.”
He froze instantly.
“…What?”
“I…”
Fresh tears rolled down my face.
“I don’t want anyone touching me.”
His hand slowly withdrew.
Not because he wanted to.
Because he respected what I was asking.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I cried harder.
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why.”
“I just…”
I covered my face.
“I don’t want to be touched.”
The sadness that crossed his face almost broke my heart.
He nodded quietly.
“Okay.”
No argument.
No frustration.
No guilt.
Just…
“Okay.”
That same night, he quietly carried one of his pillows into the guest room.
I listened to the bedroom door close.
Then cried all over again.
Not because I wanted him beside me.
Because I hated hurting him.
⸻
The next day we mentioned it during my prenatal appointment.
The doctor listened carefully before smiling reassuringly.
“Pregnancy can bring emotional and sensory changes,” she explained. “Some people go through periods where they want constant closeness, while at other times they may need much more personal space. It doesn’t mean the love has disappeared. The important thing is to keep communicating and respecting each other’s needs.”
I looked at Adrian.
He simply nodded.
“If that’s what Jude needs…”
He reached for my hand, then paused.
Asking permission with his eyes.
I gave the smallest nod.
He held my fingers gently.
“…Then that’s what we’ll do.”
I nearly cried again.
⸻
Unfortunately…
Understanding what was happening didn’t make it disappear.
If Adrian texted me…
I’d answer.
Eventually.
Adrian: Have you eaten?
Yes.
Adrian: How are you feeling?
Fine.
Adrian: Do you need anything?
No.
Five minutes later…
Actually…
Could you get those lemon biscuits I like?
He’d reply immediately.
Already on my way.
⸻
When he came home carrying three different brands because he wasn’t sure which ones I wanted…
I accepted the bag.
“…Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Silence.
He smiled softly.
“I’ll leave them here.”
“Okay.”
Then he’d quietly walk away.
And somehow…
That made me feel guilty all over again.
⸻
Dinner became awkward.
He’d sit across from me.
Not beside me.
Giving me space.
Trying so hard not to crowd me.
Sometimes I’d catch him looking at me.
Not sadly.
Just…
Missing me.
It hurt.
Because I missed him too.
In a strange way.
I wanted him in the house.
I wanted to know he was nearby.
I wanted to hear him moving around downstairs.
I wanted him safe.
I just…
Didn’t want him close.
It made absolutely no sense.
⸻
One afternoon I called my mum.
“Mum…”
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“I think something is wrong with me.”
“What happened?”
“I can’t stand Adrian.”
There was a brief pause.
Then…
She laughed.
Not a polite laugh.
A full, heartfelt laugh.
“Mum!”
“I’m sorry.”
She was still laughing.
“It’s not funny.”
“Oh, sweetheart…”
She finally caught her breath.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t like his smell.”
“Hm.”
“I don’t like looking at him.”
“I see.”
“I don’t like his shirts.”
“Mhm.”
“I don’t even like the way he says good morning.”
She started laughing again.
“Mum!”
“My poor baby…”
“I’m serious.”
“I know you are.”
She softened.
“Your father drove me absolutely crazy during one of my pregnancies.”
I blinked.
“You?”
“I couldn’t stand the sound of him chewing.”
I stared at the phone.
“Really?”
“He walked into the room once and I burst into tears because I thought his aftershave smelled terrible.”
“What happened?”
She smiled through the phone.
“It passed.”
I sighed.
“I know Adrian is struggling.”
“I can see it.”
“I just…”
I rested my hand over my bump.
“I don’t know why he irritates me.”
“You don’t have to know why.”
She spoke gently.
“You just need to remember that this feeling isn’t the whole truth.”
“You still love him.”
“I do.”
“And he still loves you.”
“I know.”
“So let him keep loving you until this season passes.”
⸻
Meanwhile…
My shopping habits had become completely unreasonable.
Lunch break?
Baby clothes.
Coffee break?
Baby blankets.
After work?
Another delivery.
The nursery was becoming dangerously full.
One afternoon a nurse walked past my office.
“Another parcel?”
I looked up innocently.
“…Maybe.”
She laughed.
“Doctor Jude, your baby owns more clothes than my five-year-old.”
“I can explain.”
“I don’t think you can.”
“I saw tiny dinosaur socks.”
She nodded solemnly.
“Understandable.”
⸻
Late one evening, while Adrian was still working, I suddenly wanted fresh cinnamon pastries.
Immediately.
I called him.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“I want pastries.”
“Okay.”
“The bakery closes in twenty minutes.”
“I’m already leaving.”
“I know you’re working.”
“It can wait.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.”
“I’ll be home soon.”
Twenty-five minutes later, he quietly placed the warm paper bag on the kitchen counter.
“I got extra.”
“…Thanks.”
He smiled.
“I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”
He didn’t even try to kiss me.
He didn’t try to hug me.
He simply gave me the space I’d been asking for.
As I watched him disappear up the stairs, my chest tightened.
I whispered to the empty kitchen,
“I still love you.”
He didn’t hear me.
Maybe that was for the best.
⸻
That night, I lay alone in our bed.
One hand rested over my stomach.
The other reached instinctively toward the empty side of the mattress.
It was cold.
I hated that.
Even though I had been the one who asked for space.
I closed my eyes.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I whispered to the little life growing inside me.
“I love your father more than anything.”
“I really do.”
“So why does he annoy me so much?”
The baby gave a tiny flutter, almost as if answering.
I laughed through unexpected tears.
Maybe Mum was right.
Maybe this was just another season.
Another strange chapter in pregnancy that neither of us had expected.
And if anyone could survive it…
It would be Adrian.
Because every single day, despite the distance between us, he chose patience instead of pride.
He chose understanding instead of hurt.
He chose to love me exactly where I was—even when “where I was” happened to be five feet away, asking him to sleep in the next room.
I hoped, with all my heart, that one day soon I’d be able to hold him again without wanting to tell him to move over.
Until then…
I’d keep the pastries he brought me.
I’d answer his texts.
I’d let him worry over me from a respectful distance.
And I’d keep reminding myself of one simple truth.
Pregnancy had made my emotions confusing.
It had not changed the one thing that mattered most.
I was still, hopelessly and completely, in love with my husband.
I just needed him… slightly farther away than usual.
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