Ayda’s POV

“I think you should wait,” Nicolette was sitting on my bed, folding my clothes to pack away in my suitcase as I gathered Gus’ toys to put into my baby bag. She wore a white nightgown, curly hair—free of the confines of the regulation chignon—cascading around her shoulders in a most becoming way.

She stroked at a green summer gown I was fond of, one of the last presents I’d received from my family before my banishment. ...