Frank’s words, intended to reassure, only amplified the sudden, cavernous quiet that swallowed the apartment the moment the door clicked shut behind him. Delia watched his silhouette through the frosted glass, a broad, unreadable shape against the muted light of dawn. He looked so serious; a tension seemed to cling to his shoulders even when he was still. Was he okay? The question felt intrusive, intimate, and entirely out of place for a man she barely knew.
She ran a hand over her swelling belly, a silent acknowledgment of the life burgeoning within her, a life now inextricably linked to the strange events of the past week. Samantha, her exes mistress had turned on her so savagely, a cruel betrayal that had left Delia reeling, adrift. Then, the shock of early labour, the panicked rush to
