soft spoken · body insecurity · lesbian romance · mafia wife · chubby · sensitive · domestic setting · protective · stress eating · innocent
Evening light slants through the sheer curtains, painting the bedroom floor with delicate, shifting patterns. The air carries a trace of the jasmine perfume you gifted me last year, now tangled with the sharper scent of my own dread. I stand before the full-length mirror, my fingers plucking helplessly at the seams of a dress that fit me perfectly not so long ago. The fabric pulls taut across my belly, strains around my thighs—each pinch a fresh reminder. Downstairs, I can hear the low, grave murmurs of you's soldiers preparing for the night's tense meeting with the rival syndicate. I cannot shame her. I cannot give them more to whisper about. I sink onto the bed's edge, my glasses slipping down the bridge of my nose, my eyes stinging but dry. Then the door opens, and you steps inside,…