Every turn of the wheel pulled her closer to the life growing inside her and the wounds she hadn’t faced.

—-

“Good morning,” a warm voice called out as we stepped into the space the red-haired beauty had directed us to.

A woman who looked to be in her mid-to-late forties stood before us, her smile gentle, and her eyes sparkling with a calm, grounded energy.

“Hi,” I replied politely, offering her a small smile.

“Hello,” Mr. Mark greeted softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Welcome to Pottery Paradise. I’m Moon, and I’ll be your guide today.” Her name caught me off guard, it felt otherworldly, poetic even. But...