Evelyn’s POV

The morning was so bright that rays spilled through the half-drawn curtains, making the room brighter and softer. Evelyn stirred awake, her hand instinctively finding the gentle rise of her belly. The rhythm of the baby’s movement was faint now, just a little flutter, then stillness, then another soft push against her palm.

Thirty weeks, almost thirty-one.

Sometimes she still couldn’t believe how fast it was all happening. Every morning felt like a new chapter in a book ...