Back at Jennifer’s apartment, the soft glow of the kitchen lights and the hum of the heater made everything feel strangely normal—almost like nothing had changed. If not for the bags from the maternity shop, the tight ache in Jennifer’s chest, and the growing curve of her belly, she might’ve been able to pretend it was just a regular girls’ night.
They ordered takeout—Thai, because it was comforting and warm and required no decisions beyond “extra rice” and “not too spicy.” Jennifer changed into one of her new outfits: a long, loose nursing top and maternity joggers that actually felt good on her body. For the first time in days, something fit without a fight.
She exhaled as she sat back down on the couch, setting the breast pump box on the coffee table like it was a foreign artifact.
Maya sat cross-legged beside her, scrolling through restaurant options and half-watching a cheesy reality dating show. “You ready?” she asked gently, nodding toward the pump.
Jennifer gave a tight nod. “I have to. I’m getting sore again.”
She unpacked the pump, her fingers fumbling with the pieces, the plastic cool and clinical in her hands. The last few days had blurred so much, but this—hooking herself up to a machine to relieve pressure from breasts that shouldn’t be producing anything—was surreal in a way that silenced her.
With Maya’s help, she got everything set up. The motor buzzed softly as the flanges latched onto her skin. Jennifer winced at first—more from the sensation than pain—and then relaxed slightly as the suction did its job. Relief came slowly, her chest easing, the tension in her shoulders dropping a fraction.
Milk collected steadily in the bottles.
Jennifer looked away.
“I feel like a science experiment,” she whispered.
Maya reached over and rested a hand on her leg. “You’re not. You’re still you, Jen. Just… going through something we don’t understand yet. And we’ll figure it out. I swear.”
Jennifer nodded, her eyes glossy. “I just want my body back.”
Maya gave her a small, sad smile. “You will. But until then… I’ve got you.”
They sat in silence, the soft rhythm of the pump filling the room. Outside, the world moved on, unaware. But in this moment, inside the little apartment, it was just the two of them—one trying to hold onto herself, the other refusing to let her go.