FAYE
I stepped out of the bathroom with my towel still wrapped tightly around me, steam curling behind me like a soft cloud.
My hair was damp, sticking to my shoulders, and all I wanted was to collapse into bed and pretend my mind wasn’t running in ten different directions.
But my phone began to ring.
I sighed, walked over to the dresser, and flipped the screen over. Helen.
I quickly cleared my throat and answered, “Good evening, Helen.”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she breathed, relieved. “I hope I didn’t wake you?”
“No, no… it’s fine,” I said, adjusting the towel with one hand.
She immediately launched into motherly questions. “How are you feeling? Did you manage to eat anything proper today? And the baby—are you resting well? No headaches? No dizziness? You’re not overexerting yourself, ri
