Tasha noticed it while folding laundry. The faint dampness on her bra, the darker spots on the fabric. At first, she thought it was sweat. It was summer, and the old AC unit in the hallway barely pushed enough cold air to cool a single room. But when she changed into a fresh bra and pulled it off again hours later, she saw the stain again. A cloudy, pale dot right where her n****e had been. Her stomach tightened. She pressed her fingers gently against her left breast. Soreness. Fullness. Heat. She rolled her n****e between two fingers, uncertain and confused—and gasped when a warm drop welled up and clung to her skin before sliding down.
Milk.
She stood in the bathroom, stunned. Her heartbeat kicked up, confused and a little afraid. No baby. No pregnancy. No IVF treatment in nearly nine
