You awoke one morning to find the other side of your bed empty, sitting up and rubbing your eyes you called out for Rosie but got no response.

Padding across the apartment you both rented you saw the bathroom door slightly ajar and could hear muffled sighs coming from inside. As you pushed the door open, there she was.

Her messy brown hair was tied up in a bun and she stood in front of the bathroom mirror studying her reflection. Her white pyjama set pulled up as she pouted at her body.

“Be honest, how do I look?”

She huffed and and finally turned to look at you, acknowledging your presence, you could see the formation of tears in her blue eyes. You had been married for a few years now so you knew these bouts of worry were fairly common.