Nine months. Nine months of careful, shared anticipation had passed since we made our announcement to Arthur. The second pregnancy felt worlds away from the first—no secret appointments, no contractual weight, just quiet, everyday joy and a lot of heartburn.It was 10:30 on a crisp autumn morning. I was standing in the kitchen, attempting to make a wholesome, complex lentil soup, mostly because Alessandro had complained about the caterer’s bland offerings. Amelia was in the family room, deeply involved in building a "castle" out of every available cushion. Alessandro was, thankfully, at the office, dealing with something blissfully abstract involving derivatives.I was stirring the pot, humming softly, when the first, low throb hit me. It was a dull ache, like the start of a serious stomach cramp. I leaned against the counter, waiting for it to pass.Then, the second one came, sharper, closer together. I knew. I stopped humming. I stopped stirring. Oh, darling. Not the lentils. Pleas
Última actualización : 2025-12-13 Leer más