Proserpina

Lucien turned on the bedside lamp, and in the muted light, I saw the deep furrows in his face.

He looked as though he had aged overnight. A few months ago, I would have wanted to take him in my arms, stroke his unshaven jaw, and kiss that firm mouth.

Not so, not anymore.

Pushing the thoughts back, I asked bluntly,

"What are you doing here? I want to see my children. Where are they?’

His reply was totally different from what I had expected. Instead of answering me, he growled,

'You didn't tell me you were with child.'

I sensed the undercurrent of anger and shrank back into...