Hazel’s POV
“I’m not dying, Nicholas. I’m just pregnant,” I said in frustration, glaring at him.
He stood there watching me like I was made of glass and might shatter any second. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, but he still refused to rest. The book about sirens lay open on my lap, pages filled with notes I had scribbled in the margins over the last two days.
“You’ve been on that book all night,” he complained, running a hand through his messy hair. “You refuse to get any sleep.”
I sighed and rubbed my tired eyes. “You haven’t slept either.”
It had been two full days since the doctor’s news. Two days of reading, practicing, and trying to call forth the siren side of me that felt strangely quiet now. Every time I thought I was getting close, the power slipped away like sand
