The night came with rain. Soft at first—like a whisper on the roof—then heavier, relentless, drowning out the hum of the city beyond the window.
Aria woke to the sound of thunder and the sharp twist of pain low in her belly. It wasn’t the first time she’d felt it, but this one—this one was different. It stole her breath.
She sat up slowly, pressing a trembling hand to her stomach. “Not yet… please, not tonight,” she whispered, but her voice broke around the edges of fear. Her back ached, her body tense as another wave came.
Her phone sat on the nightstand, and her fingers fumbled to grab it, scrolling through contacts with shaking hands until she found one name.
Mrs. Grace.
It rang once. Twice.
Then, a soft, sleepy voice: “Aria? What’s wrong, love?”
“I—I think…” She couldn’t finish
