The wind was sharp that morning. Rain clung to the windows as Grace shuffled from the bedroom into the kitchen, cradling her bump and muttering under her breath about decaf coffee being an international tragedy.
Jullian trailed behind her, his tie halfway done and his phone already buzzing with work updates.
“You okay?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.
She nodded but paused, hand pressing against her lower back. “I think the baby is trying to dig her way out with a chisel.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl. Efficient and slightly dramatic.”
“I’m serious,” Grace said, wincing as she leaned against the kitchen island. “Something feels off.”
Before he could reply, she gasped and grabbed his arm. Jullian froze, instinct shifting from playful to full-alert. “Grace?”
She looked down. A spreadi
