I wake up before the sun.
Not because I slept well—because I didn’t—but because my body decided it was time to face the day, even though my mind is still trapped in yesterday’s fear. I open my eyes slowly, feeling the familiar weight in my belly, my breathing a little shallow, my heart racing for no clear reason.
Everything is too quiet.
For a few seconds, I stay completely still, listening. The wind brushes softly against the cabin windows, carrying the cold of early morning with it. The wood creaks discreetly, as if the place itself is alive, breathing alongside me. My hand moves to my stomach almost automatically, a protective gesture I don’t even think about anymore.
It’s okay.
I’m okay.
The baby is okay.
I repeat it in my head like a prayer, trying to convince the part of me th
