The hallway was cold.
Elara stood just outside the kitchen doorway, one hand pressed flat against the cracked wooden wall, the other clutching a small cloth bundle—her meager belongings wrapped hastily that morning.
She'd come to tell them. To say goodbye properly before leaving this cursed place.
But now—
'"...then doesn't it mean, I will not be able to have sex with him for a month?"'
The words hit her like ice water.
Elara's breath caught. Her fingers tightened against the wall until her knuckles went white.
'No... no, no, no—'
'"N-n-no..."' Helena's voice trembled through the doorway. '"...The worry is even more burdensome..."'
Pregnant.
They were talking about being 'pregnant.'
Elara's legs trembled. Her amber eyes—wide, round, framed by long dark lashes—stared blankly at the floor as her mind raced.
Last night.
She'd seen it. Through the ground floor in the balcony when she'd gone to garden for some fresh air.
