Morning arrived without warmth.
Lila felt it before she saw it—the quiet weight of another day pressing against her ribs, heavier than the last. Alden slept tucked against her chest, his small body warm and solid, his breathing steady enough now that it no longer startled her awake. She lay still for a long moment, watching the light creep across the stone floor, listening to the world outside move on without her permission.
Her hand rested over her belly.
Too soon.
Too fragile.
Still hers.
The nausea rolled in waves now, sharp and unpredictable. Her body hadn’t finished healing from the last trauma, and it reminded her often. She breathed through it, slow and practiced, refusing to let it drag her into panic.
She would not fall apart today.
She would not give grief the satisfactio
