EPILOGUE 2

AMÉLIA

Eight months later.

I love nature.

The heat, no. I hate it when the temperature goes over ninety degrees and I have to leave the house, better, I hate having to leave the house pregnant straight to hell.

And by hell I mean hospital. As much as this is the best among the best and has a great climate system. So, so, so cold and cozy, it's still a hospital, and it reminds me of all the time I spent in a coma and recovering from the accident.

I force my feet down the stairs instead of waiting for my husband, as he gently shouted from the bathroom for me to do. But after taking three or four steps, I feel the need to stop for a breath, taking advantage of the brief interval to lean my side against the wall.

"Urff." I take a deep breath, closing my eyes for over two seconds before resting my hand on my stomach. My legs and back hurt even standing still, which is normal for women in late pregnancy to feel, ironically I was fine until two nights ago." Let's go, Girl."

I repeat to mysel