~Selene’s POV~
She wakes at three in the morning and lies still.
This is not unusual, in itself — the second trimester has rearranged her sleep into something she no longer fully controls, the twins redistributing the interior geography of her body with the unhurried authority of persons who have not yet learned to consult anyone else about their requirements. She has grown accustomed to the 3 a.m. inventory: a glass of water, a brief reckoning with whichever small body part has pressed itself against the wrong internal surface, and then back to sleep.
Tonight is different.
She knows this before she has fully assembled the waking thought, in the seconds between sleep and the room where the city's night sounds sit outside the window and the velvet box is on the nightstand and everything
