During my first trimester, I frequently had awful mood swings, which I couldn't control. I would suddenly be excited about my pregnancy, but then I would immediately recline into utter sadness.
I had believed I was not myself throughout that period, but I had often engrossed myself in my designs, and it had provided some sort of relieving distraction. My phone blipped again, and I was forced to add his number to my prohibited list.
"What's that?" Henry asked.
I guessed it was written all over my face, and I was annoyed.
"It's nothing." I was pissed off.
"Layla, I know something is wrong. What is it?" Henry persisted and I sighed.
"It's a disturber," I was forced to say.
"Shouldn't we report him or her to the police?" He chewed.
"Him! And sincerely, I don't want to be connected to
