Marnie never thought much about her voice.
She knew she could carry a tune well enough, that she sang softly when she was alone, usually when she was nervous or overwhelmed. Singing had always been something private—something she did without thinking, without expecting anyone to listen.
But pregnancy had changed many things.
Including how quiet moments suddenly felt louder.
That evening, rain tapped gently against the windows of the condo, the city lights blurred by mist. The world outside felt distant, muted, as though everything had slowed down to match her breathing.
Marnie sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her hair slowly, absently. Her belly felt heavy tonight, full in a way that tugged at her lower back. The twins had been restless again earlier, stretching and shifting as th
