Evelyn worked quietly, threading the tiny needles with care, but her hands shook slightly. She had been feeling unwell with nausea that came and went, fatigue that made even the simplest tasks feel heavier. She told herself it was just exhaustion from caring for the children, from the long days at the convent.
Sister Cecelia stayed close, her gaze soft but insistent. “Evelyn… you’ve been here for three weeks now, and I’ve noticed something different about you recently.” She paused, letting her words linger gently. “You’ve looked tired, paler than usual… and your hands tremble.”
Evelyn gave a small, nervous laugh, trying to mask the worry creeping up her throat. “I’m… fine, sister. Really. Just… adjusting, I suppose.”
Cecelia shook her head gently, refusing to accept the answer. “Adjust
