Villainess Marked For Her Alpha Chapter 204: I Am Leaking Again

Morning light spilled softly through the curtains, turning the bedroom warm and pale gold. I was sitting on the bed with my phone in my hand, scrolling through the comnts people had left under my post.

All the support was almost overwhelming. It should have been comforting, and it was, but it was also making my chest ache in that strange, tender way pregnancy seed to do everything lately.

I was four months pregnant now, and I could feel it in every part of my body—the way my belly felt fuller, the way my breasts had grown heavier and more sensitive, the constant emotional pull, the sudden tears, the hunger, and the way even happiness could make cry.

So days I felt fine for a mont and then suddenly tired, hot, dizzy, or too emotional to speak.

The comnts were too sweet. Too kind. Too much. They kept making my eyes burn, and Hellen, who was standing behind brushing my hair, noticed imdiately. Her fingers moved carefully through the strands, slow and patient, as if she already knew I was on the edge of tears. I sniffed once, still staring at the screen, and she clicked her tongue like she had been expecting exactly this.

The colostrum had started coming in more often now, just enough to stain shirts and remind that my body was changing whether I liked it or not. It was embarrassing, ssy, and sohow deeply personal. Although, I was leaking after pheromone therapy, but this is different.

"Don’t you dare cry looking at the comnts," Hellen said, her voice flat but not unkind.

"But it’s making happy," I muttered, my throat already tightening.

She gave my hair a gentle tug, not enough to hurt, just enough to get my attention. "That is exactly the problem. You cry when you’re sad, and now you cry when you’re happy. At this rate, none of us can tell what emotion is doing what anymore."

I let out a small, watery laugh and wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. "That’s not my fault."

"It absolutely is your fault," she replied. "You read one touching ssage and suddenly your whole face starts leaking."

I blinked at her, then looked back at the screen. "That is a horrible way to describe it."

"It is also accurate," she said, continuing to brush my hair until it fell neatly over my shoulders. "You are sitting here smiling at strangers and crying over them at the sa ti. It’s very confusing."

I glanced down at my shirt and sighed, already seeing the damp patch spreading near the front. "And now my shirt is ruined again."

Hellen’s eyes followed mine, and she made a displeased sound. "Your colostrum is leaking through the fabric again?"

"Yes," I said miserably. "It happened this morning too. I changed once already."

"That thin shirt should not even be allowed near your body," she said, reaching for the drawer beside the bed. "You need sothing proper. Sothing with support."

"I don’t want to wear those yet," I muttered.

"You don’t want to change, you don’t want to cry, and you don’t want to stop checking comnts," she said, sounding entirely too reasonable. "You are impossible."

I hugged my phone closer and frowned at her in wounded offense. "I’m pregnant."

"That explains the crying," she said. "It does not explain the stubbornness."

The room was quiet except for the soft brushing sounds and my occasional sniffle. My body felt strangely full and sensitive, like every emotion was sitting right under my skin.

My breasts ached with that familiar, heavy pressure that ca and went throughout the day, and the warm dampness against my shirt made it impossible to ignore the colostrum anymore. My lower back had also been sore lately, especially when I sat too long, and there were monts when I felt a little breathless just from shifting positions.

So mornings I woke up with an odd heaviness in my hips and a strange stretching sensation in my belly that made pause before getting out of bed.

"Do I sll like milk?" I asked suddenly, mortified.

Hellen paused for a second, then answered without looking up. "You sll like yourself."

"That is not an answer."

"It is the only answer you need." She set the brush aside and leaned over my shoulder to look at the screen. "And stop reading the comnts like they are going to hold you together."

I sniffed again. "They are holding together."

She gave a long, flat look. "You are sentintal right now."

"I’m not sentintal," I protested, though my voice ca out soft and shaky.

"No?" she asked. "Then why are your eyes watering over every other line?"

"Because they’re being nice."

"And that is enough to make you cry?"

I hesitated, then looked down at the phone again. "Yes."

Hellen sighed like she had already lost this argunt before it started. "You are hopeless."

I scrolled one more ti and nearly lost myself in tears again. There were ssages from strangers, from fans, from people who had once judged and now called strong, beautiful, and brave.

So said I was glowing.

So said my pregnancy was proof that I had finally reached a peaceful part of my life.

So said they hoped I was being spoiled properly by the five alphas. That one made my mouth twitch, because it was true. I was being spoiled. Overprotected, even. And sohow, that made cry more.

Hellen saw the look on my face and sighed again. "There. That face. I know that face."

"What face?"

"The one that says you are about to cry again."

"I’m not."

"Yes, you are."

"I’m just happy."

"That counts as crying," she said dryly, reaching for a tissue and pressing it into my hand. "There. Wipe your face before you ruin that pillow too."

I took it and dabbed at my eyes, then my nose, then glanced down again at the wet patch on my shirt with open despair. "This is awful."

"It is not awful," Hellen said. "It is inconvenient."

"That is such a cold way to describe my suffering."

"You are not suffering," she said, tugging gently at my shoulder so I would face her. "You are being dramatic."

"I am pregnant," I repeated, as if that explained everything.

"It explains a great deal," she said. "It does not excuse everything."

Despite myself, I laughed, and this ti the laugh turned into a shaky little breath that made my eyes sting all over again. Hellen clicked her tongue like she had personally been defeated by my emotions, but her hand stayed in my hair, steady and careful.

"I’m sorry," Hellen said softly, her expression gentling at once. "It’s just... I can’t be intimate with you right now, and seeing all this milk spill without being able to do anything about it is making frustrated."

She leaned in and kissed my forehead, her lips warm and careful against my skin. "I’m really sorry for that. You don’t have any control over this, and you’re carrying our baby. At the very least, we should be helping you, not scolding you."

My face went hot at once. "You are such a pervert."

Hellen blinked, then let out a low laugh, clearly amused by my accusation. "And yet you are the one making blush now."

I looked away, still red-faced, while she reached for a clean cloth to help wipe away the leaking colostrum with unusual tenderness. Her earlier annoyance was gone, replaced by quiet affection and a kind of protective embarrassnt that sohow made the whole mont feel even more intimate.