~Celine~

Walking into the kitchen, I met Martina preparing breakfast, and when she saw me, her countenance dropped.

“Celine, I’ve always told you not to come in here when I’m cooking. It’s dangerous.” She muttered, removing the pot mitt from her hands.

“C’mon, Martina. I’m pregnant, not sick.” I answered with a smile as she squatted in front of me, staring at my protruding baby bump.

“Good morning, Angel. How are you today?” She spoke to my ...