ManyWriters

Xavion's newly acquired seventy-second lover was pregnant. I discovered this just after I had finished dealing with his previous obsessively clingy little bird who was already showing.
Right in front of me, lover number seventy-two cradled her belly as she perched on Xavion's lap:
"I heard that Serenity's opera performances before her pregnancy were among the best in the circle. I'd love to hear it~ Mr. Winters, could you make her change into costume and sing for me right now? If she pleases me..."
She leaned closer to Xavion, her eyes filled with seduction.
"Tonight, Mr. Winters can play however he wants."
Xavion's gaze lingered on her face for a moment, then in the next instant, he looked up at me.
He didn't say anything, but everyone present understood his meaning.
With a pale face, I clutched my stomach and pleaded with him:
"Xavion, please, no. Singing and dancing, I'll miscarry!"
The crowd burst into laughter. Xavion, feeling embarrassed, looked at me with disdain:
"It's not like you haven't miscarried before. If you lose it, can't you just get pregnant again? Why are you still standing there?""Strip off your clothes now! If you can't cheer Vivienne up, you might as well not come down from that stage tonight!"
With that, the crowd roughly tore off my outer garments.
I was stripped bare, their mocking gazes roaming over every inch of my body. Their disgusting stares made my pregnant belly ache with pangs of discomfort.
Finally, having had their fill of looking, they tossed me a costume like some kind of charity.
With trembling hands, I put on the costume, watching as Xavion and Vivienne shared a passionate kiss surrounded by the adoring crowd.
In the chaotic breeze, I began to sing, my laughter bitter.
Xavion, this is the seventh time, and it will be the last.

My Heart Ached Seven Times In the Harsh Winter

The children in the junior class are very young, some only two or three years old, but I feel content in my heart.


Sometimes I wonder, if my children had been born successfully and grown up bit by bit to two or three years old, would they be like these kids?


Thinking of the Winters family, I find my thoughts rather laughable.


Children raised in such a family might be mischievous or rigid, but certainly not this lively and free-spirited.


The junior class lets out early. After nap time, parents come one by one to pick up their children.


As I'm arranging the classroom tables and chairs, I turn my head to see Xavion.


He stands at the classroom door with a cold expression, wordlessly pulling me to leave.


Chapter 9