*Runze's POV*
The second time I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.
I don't open my eyes immediately. The blankets are still warm, retaining the quiet heat of the room, and the dull, persistent ache that dragged me out of sleep earlier has faded into a quiet, distant pressure.
I crack one eye open. The soft morning light that filtered through the curtains hours ago has shifted into the sharp, unyielding clarity of midday. I must have slept for another two hours at least.
The thought of getting out of bed right now feels deeply offensive.
Unfortunately, my entire body agrees as I try to push myself upright. Pregnancy exhaustion is unlike any normal fatigue I've ever known. It isn't just sleepiness—it's heavy, bone-deep drag, as if someone quietly replaced my skeleton with lead while I wasn't paying attention.
