LAVENDER POV
The first thing I feel is pain. Not sharp, dull and spreading, like my body is waking up in pieces and each one is protesting being pulled back into consciousness. My head throbs, My stomach clenches. There’s a weight on my chest that makes breathing feel deliberate, like something I must remember how to do.
I hear voices before I see anything, muted, urgent, too close. I want to move, but my body doesn’t respond the way I expect it to. Panic flickers weakly in my chest.
The baby, the thought slices through the fog instantly. My hand moves before I’m fully awake, sliding down instinctively, desperately, until I feel the curve of my stomach beneath my palm. Relief crashes through me so hard it almost makes me cry.
I’m still here. So is my child. “Lavender?” The voice is fam
