Every so often, there’s movement against my fingers from inside my sleeping love; a foot or an elbow, pushing at me and I smile to myself as my unborn daughter parties through the night.
Charlotte sighs and shifts, the rhythm of her breathing changing.
Is she asleep?
Keeping my voice low, “You alright?”
“I’m fine, Master.” She sounds a little sleepy, but not just that. Something else lurks there.
I nuzzle into her hair to kiss the back of her neck. “You sure of that?”
She’s silent; too long silent.
“Charlotte? If something’s wrong, tell me. Are you feeling ill?”
“No. No nothing like that, Master.”
“What then? There’s something.”
She speaks slowly. “I suppose I’m missing how it was. Before…” She moves her hand over mine… “Before I was pregnant,”
“Missing what? Has so much changed
