CHAPTER 46

                                    

                                          
20th February 2018
London, England
Aurelie's POV

 "Aurelie would you like to comment on Chris Bailey's recent claims that you're faking your pregnancy?" a paparazzi asks me, the blinding glow of his flashlight nearly knocking me dead. Celebrities have iris' too, you know.
 Rolling my eyes, I continue my walk down the street, doing my best to ignore the growing number of cameras focused on me. Not only is it late, but I'm alone. Being a woman and walking home in the pitch black surrounded by angry men is not the ideal. 
 "And you're yet to release anything clearing up his expose. Do you have anything you would like to say about it?" a man crosses infront of me, stopping me from moving. I look him up and down: his distressed jeans and black T-shirt. Their relaxed look makes them even scarier, for some reason I would prefer if they wore suits to make them seem a little more respectable. 
 "Can I just get past, please?" I bargain meekly, hugging my handbag to my chest, unprepared for anything to get stolen.
 "Tell us one thing pretty woman-" he's cut off by the group starting a rendition of the song pretty woman. Grown men. Harassing a pregnant woman. Singing pretty woman. You can't make this up. 
 "Pretty woman, walking down the street." they cheer, almost sounding drunk with glee from the situation. 
"Well, that's kind of what I'm trying to do." I mutter under my breath, the soles of my shoes scratching against the pavement as I make a move to get past them. 
 "What was that, pretty woman?" he asks, smirking. I should never have said anything because now they know that they're getting a reaction out of me. This is what they want. 
 "When are you getting back into modelling? You can't stay and play the housewife forever." another accuses, their tone snarky and sexist. I hate how men are allowed to step back from their jobs but the second that a woman does she's branded lazy and a slave to her partner. I hate it more than anything. 
 "Are you worried that your child is going to grow up like you? Mentally fucked up?" this makes them all laugh, but me stop my walking. I turn to the culprit with anger radiating off of me. 
 "What did you just say to me?" I speak with confidence, furrowing my eyebrows in disbelief. 
 "I asked if you're worried incase your child grows up as mentally deranged as you." he sniggers, putting his camera right up to my face and recording my reaction. My acrylic nails click together as I try to compose myself, taking a deep breath. But this doesn't help. 
 "I would much rather have my child grow up to be an exact copy of myself than to have it be anything like you. You're the people who ruined my life time and time again. This," I move my pointer finger in a line, across each and every one of their faces, "This is your job. You contribute nothing except fuelling fires and exploiting people. You are the people that give me no space to breathe. You people fucking suffocate me." I may have been a little dramatic, but everything comes tumbling out at once, leaving the group stunned and rooted to their spots. I walk a few steps further before speaking again. 
 "And as for Chris. Tell him to grow up and stop obsessing over someone that gave up on him a year ago." I tighten my bag more over my shoulder and rush away from them. Thankfully, nobody follows. 
I hurry along the pavement, not daring to look back, and when the house comes into view, I breathe a deep sigh of relief. When Harry finds out that I walked home alone, he's going to be fuming. I fiddle with the opening of my handbag, attempting to find my keys, when I nearly jump out of my skin.