Evelyn’s POV

The morning air was soft and cold, the kind that made the curtains sway gently as if the wind were whispering something secret. Evelyn stood in front of her mirror, brushing out her hair with slow, deliberate strokes.

She didn’t rush anymore. Her body had taught her to move slower, not out of fatigue, but out of need. Every motion mattered now. Every breath felt shared.

Today was another appointment.

Another glimpse into the life growing inside her.

She set the brush down, ...