Rose’s POV

Two months later I decided to visit my doctor, the waiting room smelled faintly of both disinfectant and lavender-scented deodorizers, a strange combination that made me queasy. I shifted in my seat, draping a protective arm over my small swelling lump. Four months. Everything seemed surreal—the way time just kept moving as though all else in my life had ground to a complete halt.

I look at the clock on the wall. The second hand clicked away steadily, each second making me ...