Two Months later

The nursery was quiet except for the soft creak of the rocking chair Tessa refused to sit in.

The street lamps spilt through the curtains, creating stripes across the half-finished crib.

A mobile with tiny stars and moons Roman had hung himself—moved gently in the air.

Tessa stood rigid, one hand resting on the smooth wooden rail, the other cradling the swell of her belly.

She was five months pregnant now and she hadn’t been able to sleep for days, not really.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw Roman’s blood on the pavement, or heard Salima’s voice:

“You may be carrying the heir—but now you’re...