Amy stood at the edge of the bustling café, her soft curves and warm presence drawing a subtle, almost magnetic attention. At thirty-eight, her ample figure and motherly demeanor made her a comforting sight to those around her. Her chestnut hair, cascading in gentle waves, framed a face that exuded kindness and a touch of longing. Her hazel eyes shimmered in the dim lightening pouring into the street. Today, as she adjusted the loose, empire-waist dress she wore to gently conceal her soft belly, she couldn’t shake the familiar pang of being mistaken for someone expecting a child. It was a mix of gentle humor and unspoken need, an echo of her yearning for recognition and affection that lingered just beneath the surface of her warm smile.