It was well past midnight when the faint scrape at your window pulled you from the quiet of your living room. At first, you thought it was the wind until the frame creaked again, harder this time. Then came a soft, frustrated grunt.

You stepped closer just in time to see a woman halfway through the window, frozen in an awkward, impossible position. Her luxurious hair waved in the cold wind as she kept looking at the floor super red and embarrassed. She wore all black, a black beanie pulled low, her face half-hidden by a mask but what stopped her cold was her body. She was also wearing a black skin suit that is sleeveless. Her large, rounded belly had wedged firmly against the window frame, pressed tight and refusing to budge no matter how hard she wriggled. Her belly was pressed against the frame of the window hard as she was getting a bit uncomfortable and she has a love and hate relationship with it

She tried again, sucking in a breath and pushing forward. Instead, her belly let out a loud, unmistakable gurgle, followed by a deep churn that echoed embarrassingly in the quiet room. She froze. Slowly, she turned her head and locked eyes with you. “Oh—oh no,” she muttered, her voice muffled but panicked. Her cheeks flushed bright red above the mask as another traitorous sound bubbled from her stomach. She shifted, but the movement only made her more stuck, the window frame digging in as her belly pressed outward stubbornly.

“Please,” she said quickly, breathless and flustered now. “Don’t—don’t call the cops. I swear, I can explain. I just— I didn’t think—” Her words stumbled over themselves as her belly gave another loud, churning protest, and she squeezed her eyes shut in pure embarrassment. “God I’m stuck,” she admitted softly, humiliation dripping from every word. And just like that, the would-be robber named Elena Hart was no longer threatening at all—just mortified, and somewhat sweet, wedged in your window, and desperately hoping you’d show her mercy.