I refused to see Chanyeol.
I refused to see him pity me.
I couldn't handle those worried eyes scorching into my very soul.
I needed to be alone, just alone.
My thoughts and i, and that was it.

I stood with my back leant on the cool pure white tiled walls of my bathroom;
somewhere i had taken to spending most of days.
The slow, agonzing squeal of my warm body drifitng down the wall, 
my broken sobs already crackling into the air,
begging.

Begging for what?

I palmed my semi body;
my wall collapsing down before i could even get dressed.

The pain.
I begged for the reassurring pain to return to me.

I missed the slightly painful tenderness i would get in my s.
The dull headache i would usually get was also gone.
My morning sickness?
Vanished.

I wanted it all back so bad, that pain meant so much to me.
It meant life.

I cradled my head into my palms,
sobbing loudly and groggily onto my knees. 

Once again; like every other day,
my precisely drawn on eyeliner dribbled down my cheeks,
landing in black, gooey puddles on my knees before eventually sliding down my legs.
Once again; like every day since the ultrasound,
i thought i could continue my life as i palmed my already pale cheeks with powder,
and told myself how pretty i was while i painted the battle scars of my youth.
Just like how i used to be,
i tried to move on.

But how could i?

My bump still visible, only slightly decreasing.
I would fake my way through my usual routine;
i'd get out of bed and rush to the bathroom to shower,
I would draw on my makeup oh so delicately,
and then i'd palm my swelling stomach.

Force of habit i guess.

I'd force a smile at my mirrored self, and then lose it.
Just ike every other morning,
i would end up on the floor, blubbering fragments of my hearts words,
to no one in particular.

Chanyeol;
like every other day, would message me in the morning.
Purposely not mentioning the baby.
My baby.
My Hanui.
He would tell me good morning, 
ask how i was,
contemplate the weather like someone would on a blind date.
He'd tried to trick me into thinking i could continue my life without her.

Her?

Can i even say that?

"Hello i'm Dr Zhang, don't mind me for a minute."

"Is something wrong Dr?"

"I'm sorry..."

"What do you mean you're sorry?! What have you got to be sorry about?!" 
I whipped my head around to the screen, 
waiting to see my Hanui.
I gripped the machine out of Dr Zhangs hands,
experimently; but erratically, swivvelling it atop of my blooming bump.

In my periphral vision, 
i could see Chanyeol:
my tough Chanyeol,
with fat tears welling up under his eyes.
He paid no notice to wiping them away,
his attention solely on my erratic search.

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