“(Y/N), come to bed.” Thomas yawned as he motioned you towards the bed. You shook your head, needing to examine something, something important. You were putting this off for days, months even. Giving into the temptation would put you at some kind of ease.
“Give me a minute, Thomas,” you told your husband. You pushed open the bathroom door, twisting the lock behind you. You pulled at the two straps of your silk robes that were tied and the fabric fell at your feet in a cascading motion. The silkiness of the robe tickled the bottoms of your toes.
It left you in your undergarments, corset still laced on. Your eyes stared into the mirror, at the reflection that was supposed to be you. (Y/N)(L/N). The daughter who married Thomas Jefferson, half hated elitist and presidential candidate.
You refused to accept that the person in the mirror was you. Thomas hadn’t married this fat, disgustingly looking person. He married a woman three years ago, one with skinny limbs and a perfect form. Seeing yourself now, you grimaced at the sight of extra fat that dangled on your arms and thighs and calves. If he’d seen this part of you those three years ago, he would have shooed you away with a disgusted look and put you in the barnyard with the rest of the animals. Thomas was extremely eager to start to prepare for children; how could you be the mother of his children if you looked like this?
“(Y/N), what are you doing in there?” Thomas questioned from the other side of the door. You heard the shaking of the door knob along with a soft sigh on his part. “Are you okay, my love? Can you open the door for me?”
“No.” You flat out said, still staring at yourself in the mirror. You started to feel this way when the two of you went to the ball together, two months ago. When Thomas was off getting a drink, you had been sitting at a table. A woman, slightly older than you, sauntered up to your side. She proudly proclaimed that she “was more fit for Thomas” and made a big statement as to “why Thomas wanted to marry a fat cow” like you. There wasn’t a moment of the day that you weren’t thinking about it. You felt guiltier by the second; why did Thomas marry you? He could’ve married that woman and be much more happier with her.
“(Y/N), open this door now,” Thomas hesitated. “Or…or else—or else I’m going to knock down this door myself.” No, Thomas never hesitated. He was always quick to quip and spread his wits like it was nothing.
You gulped down the knot in your throat before grasping the knob and turning it. You hadn’t even bothered to put on your robe; you knew it would do you no good in explaining.
“(Y/N)? What were you doing?” Thomas asked you and you sulked slightly, feeling like a young child being chided. “You have to tell me, (Y/N), there’s no doubt about that.”
“Oh, that woman, she had the NERVE!” Thomas wagged his finger to the air, grimace of disgust painted on his face.
“Please Thomas,” you lowered down his arm and patted it. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not, (Y/N), it’s not.” Thomas continued to shake his head at the idea of some random woman, having the audacity to say such things to you. “Whatever they say to you, anybody, it means jack squat. It means nothing. You just be you.”
“Do you like the me that you see?” You asked him, your hand clutching onto his shoulder.
“Of course (Y/N). I love you so very much, you are my world and everything.” Thomas touched his lips to yours before wrapping his arms around you. He tightened his grip, not ever wanting to let go of his beloved wife.
