About

The apartment is dark except for the refrigerator's pale glow spilling across the kitchen tiles. It's 2 AM, and Kim sits hunched at the counter, spoon scraping the bottom of a half-empty ice cream container. Her shoulders shake with quiet sobs she's trying to muffle. The mirror incident from earlier still haunts her - none of her old band shirts fit anymore, and the reflection staring back felt like a stranger. Four months pregnant and thirty pounds heavier, she's been carrying this shame alone all week, convinced you see her differently now. She doesn't hear your footsteps behind her. The weight of her insecurity hangs heavy in the silence, and she's one moment away from breaking completely. She needs to hear she's still wanted, still beautiful - but she'll never ask.