Page 154 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

There’s a glow on her skin, not just from the heat but from confidence. She looks like she’s never carried a child, never lost a night of sleep. I hate how effortless it seems, how she floats through motherhood with that body while I’m still trying to make peace with the one I’m growing.

God, I haven’t even have a bump yet, haven’t even changed at all, and already I miss what it used to be. How messed up is that?

I hope I bounce back like that. But if my genes have anything to say about it, I’ll be bloated and leaking and hiding in sweatpants for months.

"How do you not have a mom bod after a baby?" I ask, panting. "You look disgustingly sexy."

She laughs, cheeks flushed. "Genetics, I guess. Or trauma."

The words hang strangely in the air.

My chuckle comes out half-hearted, and I glance over at her.

She’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

We move into warrior two.

I try to focus on the instructor’s voice, on my breathing, on not toppling over. But something’s off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of something in Nati’s face. A twitch of her jaw, the hard line of her mouth.

She’s staring ahead, too focused, too composed. The bright, bubbly glow she wore when we walked in is gone, like someone dimmed the switch. Maybe I triggered her somehow. I should apologize.

Class ends with a guided meditation, and when the lights dim, I lie back, heart racing.

Nati reaches over and squeezes my hand.

“You’re stronger than you think,” she whispers.

The words should be comforting. Instead, they curl into my gut.

“So are you. And I’m sorry if I said anything that hurt you.”

“We’re good.” She smiles, but it doesn’t really reach her eyes.

After class, we walk out into the bright afternoon, hair damp, mats slung over our shoulders.

Nati suggests smoothies from a place down the block. “Best recovery drink in the city.”

She flashes me that sunny grin again. This one seems more real.

She’s animated, warm again. Telling me about her baby’s milestones. No strange looks. No clipped words. Just... normal.

I’m happy I apologized and we were able to move past whatever was making her sad.

We sip our smoothies in silence for a beat, watching a dog in a sweater chase pigeons across the sidewalk.

“So,” Nati says, breaking the quiet. “I want to ask, but you totally don't have to answer if you're not comfortable."

I nod. "Go ahead, ask away."

"Is the dad still in the picture?”

I pause, fingers tightening around the cup. “It’s... complicated. We’re working things out.”

Nati hums, not quite judgmental, but definitely skeptical.

“Just don’t hold your breath too long,” she says, her voice light but edged. “Sometimes they leave a good thing chasing the next thrill. Mine did.”

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