“So…” came a familiar voice from the doorway, firm but gentle. “You’ve changed a lot in six hours. And I see Macy has too. Care to explain?”
Jess spun around, startled, her hands frozen mid-fold as she finished swaddling Macy for her nap. Her heart thudded. Her mind reeled. She hadn’t even heard the front door open.
“M-Mom?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Lauren stepped forward older then she was that morning, arms crossed, brow slightly furrowed as her gaze swept over the nursery—yes, somehow Jess had turned the guest room into a nursery. The soft pinks, the mobile, the toy bins… all of it looked lived-in. Used. Real.
Jess looked down at herself—still dressed in the soft maternity dress she’d changed into earlier. She blinked. Her mind tugged at something distant, something forgotten.
“I—Uhhh, no,” Jess stammered, taking a step toward her mother. “I figured this was… you. Was it not?”
Lauren’s eyes softened. “No, sweetie,” she said, stepping closer. “It wasn’t me.”
There was a beat of silence. A slow breath. Jess’s eyes widened. The trance she’d been under—subtle, seductive, overwhelming—began to unravel at the edges.
Her voice cracked. “Then… then what the hell happened to me?” Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the edge of Macy’s bassinet. “I thought this was more of your punishments. But if it’s not—if it’s not…”
Her breath hitched, and then the tears came. Hot. Silent. Sudden.
Lauren rushed forward, arms wide, pulling Jess in close before she could fall apart completely. Jess buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, sobbing like a child, her body shaking with confusion and shame and a strange longing she didn’t know how to name.
“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Jess whispered, barely able to form the words. “I just… I felt like I had to take care of her. Like it was the most important thing in the world. Like she needed me, and I didn’t want to fail her.”
Lauren hugged her tighter, rubbing slow, calming circles into her daughter’s back. “Don’t think about that right now, sweetie,” she murmured, voice low and nurturing. “It’s not good for the baby. Or for you. Just breathe. I’m here.”
“I’m scared,” Jess admitted into the fabric of her mother’s sweater. “I liked being her mom. I wanted to be.”
“I know,” Lauren whispered, guiding her down onto the couch. “And that’s okay. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out. But right now, all you have to do is rest. Let me take care of you for a little while.”
Jess leaned against her mother’s side, mascara-smudged cheeks flushed, eyelids heavy.
Lauren kissed the top of her head, then glanced at the peacefully sleeping Macy. Her expression darkened slightly—thoughtful, watchful.
Something had changed. And it wasn’t just Jess.
(Lauren Also Realizes In Secret That Since Jess Was Pregnant She Couldn't Be Changed, In Anyway That Aborted The Baby)