FAKE MATE, REAL BOND
“Something’s wrong.”
The old woman moved swiftly, placing her hand against my forehead, then over my belly. Her lips moved silently, chanting something too low for me to understand.
Her eyes widened suddenly. And then she stepped back. Her face was pale.
“No,” she muttered. “This changes everything, we can't do this.”
“What?” I croaked. “What did you see?” I asked confused, "Why can't we do this?"
“You’re pregnant Gina.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest.