The next morning, as sunlight sifted through the curtains, the room still hung heavy with Annabel's shallow breaths.
She had spent the night waking often; at times writhing in sweat, at times sitting bolt upright from sudden nausea that clutched her stomach. With the first light of dawn, her tired eyelids were half open, her cheeks carrying a pallid pink.
I, however, had been awake for some time and sat quietly at the edge of the bed. Watching her like that brought a strange clarity to my mind: this woman was no longer merely a lover or a confidante. She had become all the more precious to me because she carried another life at the center of mine.
I summoned the head housemaid. When she paused in the doorway, I lowered my voice as if speaking too loudly might disturb Annabel's rest.
