The bar was just ahead, but Jennifer couldn’t go in—not like this. Her leggings were soaked, clinging to her thighs and backside, every step squelching slightly. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, the dampness between her legs chilling in the breeze. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. Maya read the look on her face.
“Come on,” she said, gently steering her to the side. “We’re stopping at Blossom & Bump again. Two minutes away.”
Jennifer didn’t protest. She couldn’t. Each step felt heavier, the pressure inside her growing unbearable. Her body had stopped asking for permission—it just did what it wanted now.
The boutique was quiet that morning, mercifully empty except for the same clerk from yesterday, who gave them a startled look but said nothing as Maya led Jennifer straight to the back.
They grabbed a new pair of maternity joggers, the largest size on the rack. Then Maya hesitated—looked at Jennifer, then the shelf tucked quietly near the changing area: discreet packs of maternity briefs and adult diapers, soft and thick, meant for late-term incontinence.
Jennifer followed her gaze and let out a trembling breath. “Do it,” she said, voice hoarse. “I’m not leaking in public again.”
A few minutes later, they were in the private changing stall. Jennifer leaned on the bench, balancing herself with one arm while Maya knelt beside her, pulling open the pack.
“I can do it,” Jennifer muttered.
But when she tried to bend, she wobbled, and the effort made her belly contract sharply.
Maya reached out and steadied her. “Let me. Please.”
Jennifer nodded, humiliated but grateful. She stood still, one hand cradling the bottom of her bump while Maya gently helped her step out of her soaked leggings. The diaper was thick and soft, padded and high-waisted. Maya helped her step into it, pulled it up, and adjusted the waistband carefully around her belly.
Once it was secure, Jennifer sank onto the bench with a long exhale.
Maya handed her the new joggers, and she slid them on slowly over the diaper. Everything was snug, but dry, comfortable. She looked down at herself—her swollen belly, her aching breasts, the slight rustle of the padding—and almost laughed.
“I can’t believe this is my life now,” she said, the words half a whisper.
Maya met her eyes and smiled gently. “Just for a little while longer.”
Jennifer nodded. She didn’t say I hope so. Hope was too fragile right now.
But she stood, waddled slowly toward the door, and said only:
“Let’s go find her.”