Namara's POV:

“Martha, what's wrong?" I asked, on seeing Martha's face crumple as her tears flowed freely and her shoulders shook with sobs. “Why are you crying?"

Suddenly, Martha fell to her knees on the plush rug, her apron bunching around her as she collapsed, her hands covering her face. I rushed up from the sofa immediately, my heart pounding as I crouched down beside her, and wrapped my arms around her trembling frame. "Martha, what's the problem?" I urged, stroking her back ...