AVA'S POV
The morning air was warm with the scent of jasmine and fresh linen.
I woke up in our bedroom to the sound of birds outside and the comforting hum of life quietly unfolding around me.
My hand instinctively slid over my bump, now more prominent, undeniably real.
There was something sacred about mornings like this: not rushed or dramatic, just tender moments stitched together like a soft lullaby.
Ethan was already up, his side of the bed warm but empty. I could hear faint murmurs from the kitchen, him, likely speaking to one of the domestic staff.
As I stretched and pushed back the duvet, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My belly had become the center of everything now.
A symbol of change, love, and growth.
Downstairs, I found Ethan in conversation with Eliza, our housekeeper, who handed him a tray of sliced fruit.
"She's awake," Eliza said with a gentle smile, noticing me. "I'll go get your tea."
