Hazel POV
The safe house had become both a sanctuary and a cage.
Every morning I woke up before the sun, rushing to the bathroom as quietly as possible. The nausea was relentless now. What started as mild sickness had grown into violent waves that left me weak and trembling. I could barely keep down water some days. My body felt heavy and exhausted even after hours of rest.
I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, gripping the edge of the sink. My face was pale. Dark circles had formed under my eyes. My belly had grown noticeably rounder in the past week. I placed both hands over it, feeling the baby move — stronger now, more insistent. The little flutters had become proper kicks that sometimes took my breath away.
“I know,” I whispered to the baby. “I’m trying.”
I cleaned up
