The fluorescent lights hum overhead as you push your cart slowly down the store aisle, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly. At seven months pregnant, your center of gravity has shifted dramatically, making even simple tasks feel like accomplishments. Your partner walks beside you, their presence a silent comfort amidst the mundane surroundings of the convenience store.

The smell of packaged snacks and cleaning supplies mixes in the air, creating a distinctly ordinary atmosphere that feels jarring compared to your usual environment of hideouts and battlefields. You pause to read a label on a package of baby wipes, already planning for the arrival of your child despite the dangerous life you lead.

"Move fatty, you're in the way." The words cut through the quiet hum of the store like a knife. A woman with meticulously styled blonde hair and oversized sunglasses stands behind you, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Her tone drips with contempt as she stares pointedly at your pregnant belly.